Afterword on Independence
by celestehalcyon
Summary: Sequel to Stranger Nations. It's almost the 4th of July, and England is acting strangely. When an event that the other nations are powerless against occurs, will the familiar group of travelers be their last hope in bringing the old England back?
1. Prologue: Birthday

**Afterword on Independence**

_Note: This fanfiction of _Hetalia _crosses over with a fanfiction of _Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles_ having a similar title_. _Although it isn't necessary to read the other fanfiction to understand the events in this _Hetalia_ fanfiction, you'll get to see the same events from different perspectives if you read both!_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz while Tsubasa belongs to CLAMP. _

_

* * *

_It was Canada Day, the one day where Canada was actually _noticed_ by the rest of the world. Well, most of them wouldn't have remembered the occasion to be his birthday, but the quiet nation was content with just being recognized as a little more than a part of the background.

Of course, this year he made sure that they would remember his party well enough to even rival America's own. (Well, it would still be a far cry compared to his brother's, but hey, even a nation can hope.)

The venue was prepared and well taken care of. Food from all over the world was taken into account for the enormous buffet. The invitations were sent and even delivered in the invited guest's preferred language. Even the drinks were hauled by the barrels so the invited nations might stay a while longer for his birthday… Though he personally asked Switzerland to oversee the security to be on the safe side ("Please, Switzerland, think of it as protecting Liechtenstein from harm"). That had been a rather difficult task in itself, but he didn't want to leave any nation behind.

And that included Russia.

Thankfully, all his efforts weren't for nothing and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Canada tried to be the best host to his party and made his guests as comfortable as he could. While there were still moments when they didn't even recognize their own host, he didn't let it bother him. They were able to saw him at least, he thought.

To keep his hands free, the nation had Kumajirou take care of the Liechtenstein and the micro-nations. He specifically assigned the bear to keep Sealand away from trouble as much as possible, or else it wouldn't have maple syrup on its pancakes for a month.

A few hours into the party, Canada was exhausted. Keeping everyone in check was a grueling task. For the first time since the start of his party, he slumped onto the nearest chair he could find. Said chair was the empty chair right next to England.

"Oh, excusez-moi," the nation-celebrant muttered without thinking and covered his mouth with a hand.

He had expected the other's banter against the language and blinked when England merely looked at him with unfocused eyes and muttered, "Oh. Hullo, Canada." The older nation didn't offer any further chitchat either as he stared off on the carpeted floor.

Canada was about to ask him if everything was alright, when a real Frenchman came up and said, "Joyeux anniversarie, mon cher Canada~!"

"H-Hello, France," the nation-celebrant stuttered just as France gave England a pointed look. He knew it was hard to avoid – almost impossible for these two rival nations – but he'd rather not have any fights on his own birthday party if he could help it. "Are you enjoying the party so far?"

The Frenchman gave England another look before replying with a bright smile, "Oui! And the Côtes du Rhône wine you brought over is simply magnifique!" he added, showing off the red liquid in his glass.

"Really? Well, I'm glad to hear that… um…" Canada faltered as England stood from his seat. For a moment, the two older nations glared at each other, the air thick with tension between the two. Still seated in his chair, the nation-celebrant made a face. Oh no, here it comes…

England's eyes narrowed further, took a step forward, and… stepped to a side. What? Canada watched, rather speechless, as England walked off with nothing more than a quiet, "I'll be heading off early tonight. Have a happy birthday, Canada…" And the nation was out of sight, engulfed by the crowd of nations before the remaining two had anything to say.

Canada looked back at the quiet France and asked, "W-What just happened?"

The Frenchman remained quiet, still looking over to where England disappeared to, before replying softly, "Today's… July 1st."

The nation-celebrant blinked at the other's strange words when a familiar laughter resounded in the room. The two nations looked to the source and saw America giving Japan a not-too-soft pat on the back in the middle of their conversation. Then, Canada understood.

It was only three more days before America's own birthday.

"I was actually surprised to find Angleterre here tonight," France muttered.

Canada looked down on the floor between his feet, a small frown settling on his face. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea inviting England over…"

"Non, non," the older nation shook his head thoughtfully and the nation-celebrant looked at him with curious eyes. "This was a good chance for him to try and move on from the past."

"Still," Canada muttered to the floor again, "it must be hard on him, especially considering it's almost that time of the year again…"

"Oui, he must be truly sad and lonely deep inside," France replied, the most serene look on his face Canada had seen in a long time. Then, the image was broken by an all too-familiar twist of a smile as he continued, "Maybe I should comfort him, in his bed perhaps~"

"A-ah, I don't think that's a good idea, France…" Really, would England even be happy to see the other nation, and _in his bed_ of all places?

Canada only let out a slow sigh but let the older nation rant on if only to keep him from doing anything else to the other guests. Nevertheless, he couldn't take his mind off with another certain nation and his own special day.

* * *

**A/N:** After much procrastinating, I've finally got the time to write the sequel to _Stranger Nations_! Note that since this is a sequel, it may be better to read its prequel first as there will be mention of some events that happened in Stranger Nations (like the fact that Arthur-san met the TRC gang), heads up!

Also, to make this a bit interesting, I'll put up a theme song for every chapter that seems to have an appropriate-sounding theme to it. This also means that there will be some chapters that won't have any theme to them (though you're free to suggest!) I'm actually going for a switcheroo of songs wherein OSTs and songs related to Hetalia will be for Tsubasa and vice versa. Of course, that may change depending on the chapter. We'll see...

And to end my ranting, here's this chapter's theme: a tiny sunshine (as heard in Future Soundscape)

_P.S._ There are links in my profile if you want to hear them - I think I forgot to mention that on the other Afterword fanfic, but readers are smart, they'll catch on :)


	2. Askance

**Afterword on Independence**

~oOo~**  
**

* * *

It was warmer here in England than in his place, but Norway didn't let it bother him. However, it was still a bother having to come over to the other nation's house in the first place.

One of the trolls found a strange book over in Svalbard a week ago, and Norway went and examined it. The book didn't have anything special about its cover, not even a title, so he wondered why a troll would even trouble itself with it. It came as a surprise for him when he found that the book held a vast amount of magical content. What's more, its writings weren't in the ancient Norse language he had been expecting but rather, they were in ancient Gaelic.

He intended to ask England about the book back in the birthday celebration, but he didn't even see the Briton at all last night. The book had a rather rare ominous aura about it, and it somehow frightened the other creatures in his house. He needed to hand it over to England before anything else happened to his magical friends.

That was why he wondered if it was a good thing or a bad thing, then, when he stumbled upon France and another nation on his way to England's house. From how they appeared to be doing, they were in the middle of a conversation though at one point the other nation became embarrassed over something, by the shade of red his face was turning. He wasn't one to jump to conclusions but he guessed it was France's fault.

The Nordic nation's face didn't betray his displeasure when France saw him and greeted him in what he labeled as the France way: "Bonjour, Norvège!"  
With that, the Frenchman practically pranced over to him, as if the very _brennevin _sang hymns from behind, the heavens opening his way. Norway's lips thinned to nearly a frown. He looked more like a gatekeeper from _Hekle_ inviting him over.

Beside France, the other nation greeted him in a much less showy manner. "Hey there, Norway. I didn't expect to see you here in Britain."

The Norwegian decided to ignore the 'glowing' Frenchman and replied, "Yes… um…" He paused for a moment, forgetting the blond purple-eyed nation's name. He shrugged. Oh well. "I was just heading off to England's house and need to be on my way. If you'll excuse me…"

He was about to make a quick escape but France had the brilliant idea of locking an arm over his shoulder and scooting him closer. "What a coincidence! Canada and I are going over to Angleterre's house as well. Care to join us, mon ami~?"

By now, Norway was tempted to summon Dovregubben and ask the friendly Frenchman if he'd prefer his Majesty's company instead. Then, he thought twice about it – Dovregubben would rather not waste time with the other nation, and just make a meal out of him (while that was an interesting thought, the other nations wouldn't shut up about it).

The younger nation – he still didn't remember his name – gave him a more innocent, encouraging smile. "We should all go together. Oh, and don't worry," he added in a whisper only Norway heard, "I don't think France would try anything in England's streets." The Norwegian wondered if he just saw the nation shudder. Probably at some memory.

England may now be a gentlemanly nation but he remains absolutely vicious when anything somehow involves France.

Finally, the younger nation's hopeful (begging?) eyes won him over and Norway sighed. "If you insist."

"Fantastic!" France exclaimed over his shoulder, making Norway's ear sore. With that, the Norwegian tagged along (more like was tugged along) with the other two nations as they made their way to England's house. Really, while one of his companions needed much work, the younger nation was nicer, if not rather shy. That wasn't entirely surprising to him, considering he and the other Nordic countries lie in the northernmost regions of Europe and more than a little far from the other countries of the continent.

Throughout their walk towards England's house, however, he still couldn't fathom who this young nation was. Perhaps asking his name sounded rather offensive, but he'd rather not ask _France_ and—

Norway froze, making the two other nations pause and blink at him. "Is something wrong, Norway?" Canada asked, and then in a worried tone, he added, "Are you all right? You look a bit pale…"

Slowly, the Norwegian narrowed his eyes at the distant outline of England's house. "Come. We must hurry." Without waiting for any response from the other two, he brushed off France's arm on his shoulder and hurried over to their destination.

Something just happened – something magical. And it was powerful. The source of all that power was coming from England's house, though the Norwegian knew that kind of power wasn't there before. It was strangely foreign, otherworldly even. Surely, England must have realized its presence by now.

As soon as he reached the Briton's doorstep, he gave the door an abrupt knock, giving it another rap for good measure. Norway felt agitated, the first time in years. The magic was definitely coming from inside England's house, though he thought it would've been taken care of already. He only relaxed slightly when England opened the door.

Aforementioned nation gave him a surprised smile before Norway could say anything. "Norway! I didn't expect to see you so suddenly. You should've called earlier and I would've prepared some more scones."

"Um, sorry to have come so unexpectedly," Norway muttered. He knew very well of England's infamous cooking skills but decided not to comment on that.

The Briton merely opened his door wider and took a step aside to let him enter. "That's alright, come in… Hehe, I seem to be having more and more guests tonight," he added, the words more to himself. Norway raised a brow at that. He had other guests? Strange, he couldn't think of any nation that would give the Brit an unexpected visit—

"Mon cher Angleterre~!"

Well, besides _France_.

As the Norwegian looked over his shoulder, faintly noticing the Briton's sudden scowl, he saw France waving frantically at them even as he walked up to them. The other nation was smiling sheepishly at England too, as if silently apologizing for the intrusion.

"France, you bloody git," England snapped more quietly, "you'll rouse the whole neighborhood with all your yapping—_don't you dare touch me!_" he hissed threateningly. But the Frenchman couldn't be deterred so easily and hugged the flabbergasted Briton – and got pummeled to the ground for that.

"But mon cher…" the Frenchman moaned on the ground. Norway thought that punch would've done him; France was a tougher nation than he thought. "I've gone out of my way just to come and comfort you in bed and—_mmph!_" England quickly silenced him with a prompt stomp on his face.

"Please, England," the younger nation said softly, "I was the one who asked France to come with me."

England blinked at him, though he kept his foot firmly on the Frenchman's face. "Oh? Is there something wrong, Canada?"

Canada? Was that the young nation's name? Norway looked at the other nation more critically and blinked. So it was… Canada seemed to have been a bit taken aback as well, but by another reason. "…U-Um…"

England furrowed a thick brow slightly. "You don't have Kumajirou with you either. Did you leave him behind?"

The younger nation's eyes widened behind oval-shaped glasses. "H-He wanted to eat some more pancakes when I left, but England, y-you…"

But the Brit raised a hand before he could continue. "Sorry, but perhaps we should continue this conversation inside my house." He shifted his eyes to the shadows as he muttered more quietly, "We don't know who'd be listening in on us…"

Norway nodded and let himself in. England remained to have a right sense of mind, though he felt that something was still off about the other nation. He ignored the next scene by the door (France was trying to get in too, but England was against it, squeezing the other nation's face and fingers between the door and doorframe) and moved further across the hallway. The painting of Queen Elizabeth II greeted him with that polite smile and he nodded at the painting with equal politeness. England's house barely changed at all since his last visit.

As he walked across the hall, he could feel the magic presence getting stronger and stronger. Finally, he was in front of the door that opened to the den. The presence was strongest inside that room. Norway frowned. It was so obvious, why hadn't England dealt with it yet? Or had he been _expecting_ for the presence to appear?

With the persistent noise across the hall echoing, Norway opened the door. His frown deepened slightly at what he saw.

Seated on the chairs were three strangers wearing stranger clothes. The fair man seated on one of the lone chairs had long blonde hair tied loosely into a ponytail with blue eyes looking at him with gentleness. He was smiling at him, calculating but not scheming. He proceeded over to the one leaning against the wall. The black-haired man was bulky and looked rather rough. Norway didn't like the way he was scowling at him with those blood-red eyes.

The boy seated on one side of the couch had spiky brown hair and brown eyes that made him look far more mature. Even as the boy's eyes widened in pure surprise, the Norwegian couldn't easily trust him. Norway couldn't quite place his finger on it, but something felt off about this boy as well.

Overall, he could tell that each of the humans in the room held an aura coming from both battle experience and that otherworldly magic.

These weren't your everyday humans. Far from it.

Norway glimpsed a sudden movement from the other lone chair and blinked. A white rabbit, wearing a blue earring on its ear and a _cloak_ of all things around itself, stood on top of the chair with its hind legs. It raised a front paw as if in greeting and the Norwegian stared at its friendly smile.

"Hey there! Are you a friend of Arthur-san, as well?"

* * *

**A/N:** Finally, it's uploaded! I didn't know when I could get update these stories with the huge demand RL is making. Ah well. At least, I've managed.

Regarding Norway, his personality's rather mysterious and is hard to find reference for his character in Himaruya's comic aside from being, well, mysterious. Still, Norway _needs_ to be in this sequel (for various reasons) so I'll have to hard not to make him too OC. Wish me luck!

Finally, since this chapter doesn't have a particular theme in mind (though readers can suggest!), let's finish this off with a few notes:

_Translation:_

Norvège (French) - Norway

Brennevin (Norwegian) – spirits (according to Google Translate)

Hekle – gateway to Hell (according to **humon** in **deviantart**, as loosely as I understood it; strangely, Google Translate said it meant _crochet_ in English XD, stuck with **humon** though - she is amazing by the way, check out her _Scandinavia and the World_!)

_Other Notes:_

Dovregubben – king of the trolls (according to Wiki, though I'd rather not depend on it)


	3. Unexpected

**Afterword on Independence**

* * *

"This is a most wonderful surprise, mes ami~!" France cried out, his smile curling.

Beside him on the couch, the man called Fai shared his smile. "Indeed. We didn't expect to see you all so soon!"

The talking rabbit, Mokona, beamed as if it was the happiest bunny in the world. "Mokona is very happy to see everyone again!"

The other nation smiled along with them as the three blondes shared the couch, the white creature sitting on the spectacled nation. And Norway had forgotten the nation's name again. Oh well.

Throughout their conversation, the other guests, Syaoran and Kurogane, remained quiet by the wall, watching the others with a calm air. None of the guests seemed bothered to find the uninvited nations barge in all of a sudden. They looked rather comfortable around them, most probably because they knew each other already – otherwise, England wouldn't have let them inside his house from the start. The two blondes seemed to be having a good reunion, though the Norwegian was having doubts about the human's safety around France.

Near the entrance to the den, Norway frowned. Other humans would've felt some sort of awe or fear around them – it was natural, being around the embodiment of an entire country was like being with a celebrity or dignitary only the feeling was much greater. The strangers, however, were neither awed nor fearful of them – they acted as if they and the nations were on the same footing, _equals_. This irked Norway somewhat. (He was more irked when the white creature even tried calling him "Noru-kun" that one time.)

"Norway," England muttered and the Norwegian broke out of his reverie. "You aren't here for mere pleasantry, I suppose." The Brit always does have a critical eye in these situations.

The Nordic nation nodded and, turning a glance at the two humans by the wall, said, "I would prefer to discuss this matter in private, if you will."

England frowned. "Very well." With that, he led the way out of the den and into the hallway. He closed the door behind him before he crossed his arms at the Norwegian. "I'm listening."

Smoothly, Norway slipped out his burden from a hidden pocket in his coat and showed the book to England. For a moment, he thought he saw the Brit grow pale at the sight of it, most likely a reaction to the book's power seeping from its pages. The Norwegian went through his telling of its discovery and his own findings about the book. When he had finished, England held a deeper frown, thick brows creased together in thought.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, the Brit asked, "You said the book was written in Gaelic?"

Norway nodded and handed the book over to the other nation at the unspoken gesture. As the Brit scanned through the pages, the Norwegian noticed those thick brows furrowing deeper and deeper with very other page read. Then, England sighed. "You're right. This book is written in the ancient language of Gael. But how could it have been in Svalbard? I don't remember a spell book of this caliber being written during Denmark's Viking days…"

"I'm more worried about the ominous aura this book is producing," Norway muttered, scrunching his nose.

England returned to flipping through more pages. "True, this… _miasma_ is rather bothersome," he muttered dryly. Then, he stopped in one page, the last page, his green eyes wide with suspicion.

"What is it, England?" Norway looked over and saw an insignia imprinted on the paper. It was a bat inscribed in a circle and dyed in deep red, almost like dried blood. The Norwegian tensed. The insignia hadn't been there before.

He glanced at the quiet Brit and found him rather pale. Cautiously, Norway asked, "… Do you recognize it?"

"I…" The other nation licked his lips and tried again. "Well, I have never seen its like before… but…" The Norwegian actually _twitched_ when England reached his hand out to the symbol on the page and—

Norway felt rough, familiar green hands around him before a strong burst suddenly tore between him and England, the force sending him hurling back to the door and into the den. He didn't feel the impact of the door even as he saw the wood splinter mercilessly around him but he still felt the sheer power of the blast head-on. It made him sick to the stomach, a sharp twinge of pain shooting straight to his mind.

It was magic; nothing else could explain it.

It took him a moment before Norway struggled to move from where he laid on the debris-filled floor. He strained to lift himself up and felt those hands supporting him. He glanced to his side and found a troll staring back at him with glassy eyes. He almost relaxed when he noticed something amidst those depthless eyes. There was a slight strain in them, a glint of alertness and… _fear_? No, that couldn't be it. Impossible.

"Norway!"

The Norwegian turned at his country name and saw, amidst the dust clouds and the now wrecked den, France and the younger nation staring at him, or rather, what was beside him. Clearly, they were more than surprised to find a seven-foot man in bulk and green with them in the room, but Norway didn't mind them. He was more interested in the Brit's _other_ guests.

The humans look surprised too, their eyes wide in alert, though their stances told him they had experienced similar situations before. The two humans that were by the wall stood their ground as if in wait for an enemy, their hands ready to draw some weapon. The third human now…

The blonde-haired one stood in front of France and the other nation, who still held onto the bunny creature, with his hand outstretched. Norway noticed the hand glowing faintly and Norway's eyes widened in realization. Translucent barriers were laid before each of them, _floating_ in midair. Then, the man's hand lowered and the barriers disappeared.

The human, Fai, had just used _magic_.

He wanted to voice out his question at him, but before the Norwegian could even open his mouth, a cold chill etched down his spine.

_What in Odin's name…?_

He twisted to face the now ruined entrance of the den and he stared. With dust clouds dispersing on his feet, the image of England stood on the doorway, his head hung down. The second he laid eyes on the nation, however, Norway knew something was definitely wrong.

England suddenly wore a black cloak around him when there was nowhere he could have gotten it from, the hood shadowing half his face. The bottoms of the cloth bellowed softly at an unfelt wind, but Norway could almost feel the goose bumps running up the troll behind him.

Softly, the younger nation's voice broke through the choking silence. "E-England…?"

Finally, England's head lifted and a sickeningly green eye glinted at them, the malice all too evident. "I am not England…"

If the troll's arms hadn't held onto Norway that tightly, he could have shivered at the _coldness_ in the tone. Slowly, he sputtered, "Then, who…?"

A wide smirk reached to the other nation's ears but the curl in them twisted it to a wicked grin, baring gritting teeth.

"Great Britain."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to _La Divina Tragedia_, the "Tsubasa BGMs for his fanfic only" playlist is broken and a certain witch inspired this "Arthur-san".


	4. Resistance

**Afterword on Independence**

_Warning: Violence and gore from here onwards. Rating goes up! Beware!_**  
**

* * *

Canada was shaking, his knees barely keeping him upright. He couldn't help it; he was just so intimidated, so afraid of this new England before them. Weakly, he called out, "B-B…" The word wouldn't come out. He gulped. Holding onto Mokona tighter in his arms, he tried again, "B-Britain…?"

The smile 'England' gave him was both familiar and foreign, all twisted in a wicked curl. "Don't look so scared now, lad," he said in a mock soothing tone. Then, he turned to glare at France. "_You_, on the other hand…"

Said nation let out a sound very close to a whimper but Canada didn't notice, already lost in his own thoughts. England looked the same – the same bright green eyes, the same thick eyebrows – but at the same time, he looked so very different. His eyes had a shine of coldness and hatred; there was no sign of warmth in them at all. No. This wasn't the England they all knew.

This was a stranger with a murderer's eyes.

Syaoran called out, "A-Arthur-san…!"

But the Brit scoffed at him, a look of disgust deeply etched on his face. "Don't belittle me with that… _human _name. My name is Great Britain – a more fitting name, wouldn't you say?" He gave them a crooked smile.

Syaoran, however, urged, "Arthur-san! What are you—" He stepped forward towards Britain but Fai stopped him, placing an arm in his way.

"Wait, Syaoran-kun!" he reprimanded the boy.

"But, Fai-san—!"

"So you're a non-believer, are you?" Britain drawled, interjecting Syaoran's words, and he flashed them a foreboding smile. Canada froze at the sight – at the menace – of it. "You've proposed an interesting challenge, human. Fine. I accept your challenge."

W-What?

"Arthur-san—"

"I am Great Britain," he cut him off again, "land of Hope and Glory"—a quick flash of teeth—"and a caster of magic you petty humans deign to recognize!"

There was a sudden flash of light coming from all directions and Canada had to close his eyes shut. He waited for a few moments until, upon realizing that the light had gone, he opened his eyes again. He stared at what he saw. The whole den was back to the way it was before the explosion. The couch and chairs were back in their place. The portraits were hanging on the walls as before. Even the door was as good as new. It was as if the explosion never happened.

Canada gawked, simply speechless. "Oh… wow…"

Beside him, France snorted, though his face still looked rather pale. "I-It certainly is a nice trick – w-well, for _cleaning_ anyway…"

The sudden glare Britain gave him was like the certain promise of doom, slow and agonizing. "And you'll be the first blood, _you dead frog!_"

Before anyone could react, the Brit charged at France, his hand outstretched, glowing an eerie blue with white-hot sparks coming off.

The sight itself made Canada widen his eyes at the danger. He looked at the other nation in panic. "_France!_"

But France remained in place, too stunned at the sudden change in atmosphere. This new England was charging at him – _glaring_ at him with the coldest, bloodiest stare he had ever seen on mon cher Angleterre. But… was this really the same old Angleterre? If only he could ask, but alas, too late now—

"Don't, England-san!"

With that, Fai stopped Britain's assault, crossing the Brit's searing arm with his own, surrounded by glowing symbols.

France thought he could barely stand at that point. Fai just saved him – but, why was his arm _glowing_? If he remembered correctly, Fai's hand was glowing as well at the time of the explosion… and then these 'barriers' of sorts appeared out of nowhere and shielded them from the flown debris.

The Frenchman gaped at the blonde-haired human even as Fai struggled in the strangest arms-lock he had ever seen. Just who were these humans?

Britain's toothy smile brought him back to the ruthless reality. "Well, isn't this interesting!" His voice truly sounded _amused_. "So you're a vampire _and _a magician! Ahahaha! Very interesting! But I wonder," he continued, his tone lowered in challenge, "how will your _companions_ fare?"

In the next instant, Britain's other arm stretched out, directed right at Syaoran and Kurogane.

Tears threatened to fall as Canada cried out, "_No, England, don't!_"

But the words fell on deaf ears and then there was that high-pitched blast as a beam of light shot out from the nation's hand, heading straight for the other two humans—

"_Kurogane! Syaoran!_" Canada tried to warn but the beam was just too fast and the humans were just _staring at the damn thing_ and—

Mokona suddenly popped up from his arms and opened its mouth unnaturally wide. The effect was immediate: Canada sharply felt the surrounding air being sucked into the white creature's mouth, threatening to take him with it. Then, a flash of light shot straight into the mouth and Mokona promptly closed its mouth tight.

Eyes were on the innocent-looking creature in Canada's arms as it let out a soft burp. With tears still hanging on to his eyes, the spectacled nation asked, "M-Mokona…? W… What did you just…?"

Mokona huffed up its tiny chest and beat a little paw onto itself. "That was just one of Mokona's 108 secret skills: _super-suction power_!"

Canada blinked and found himself shaking his head. Magic… Fai as a _magician_ of sorts… England… _not-England_… a talking, power-sucking rabbit… Just what on Earth did he put himself into this time?

Britain gritted his teeth and released himself from the magic-lock. He stepped back, scowling at the humans in the room. "Well, it looks like you have a trick or two up your sleeve." Slowly, he raised a hand, the tips of his fingers glowing. "Let's take all those tricks away first, shall we?

The sound snap of fingers echoed throughout the whole room. Canada blinked once, and suddenly found himself out of the den – of the house itself – and somewhere in the garden grounds. The distinctive smell of roses and dampness hung in the air. He was almost sure of the grass underneath his feet. He looked around and saw the others looking just as surprised as he was. A heavy fog had settled in London as time already passed into night…

…And red glinting eyes surrounded them.

Canada immediately took a step back. W-When did _that_ happen? The spectacled nation then found himself shielded on all sides: Syaoran, Kurogane, Fai and even Norway circled around him, facing the enemy head-on, while France remained by his side. He felt a hand hold onto his arm tightly and he saw the older nation put on that brave face.

"D-Don't worry," he tried to soothe, though his cracking voice sounded like it was trying to persuade himself. "E-Everything will be fine, y-you'll see."

The purple-eyed nation was having a hard time believing him, but nodded anyway. He slowly looked front again and quickly felt his face drain of blood. There were hounds, dozens of them, appearing from out of the fog, growling and snarling at them menacingly. It wasn't just the eyes that scared him – their forms were far too bony to be even living, their appearances haunting.

If one took a closer look at these hounds, their very structure appeared nothing more than smoke and shadows. But with teeth ready to rip out flesh.

Kurogane let out a strained grunt and, much to Canada's surprise, unsheathed a long sword. It was something Japan would have in his home, the one-edged blade shimmering with deadly sharpness. Syaoran's urgent voice quickly knocked him out of his curiosity. "Wait, Kurogane-san—!"

Beside him, Fai readied into a stance. "It can't be helped…"

"Fai-san!"

On his side, Norway frowned. He knew the bulky-looking human had some sort of weapon on him, and the blonde-haired magician must have something to use as well. However, they still needed the troll—Delgren's help in vanquishing these ghost-hounds so he couldn't just give him restricted orders. But that left the Norwegian without a weapon of his own. He frowned deeper.

As if reading his thoughts, Britain said with a mocking smile, "Oh, don't feel so left out, Norway. Fortunately for you, I am a gentleman as well and consider fairness even in these matters."

Immediately, Norway gave the cloaked nation a look. How can he consider being outnumbered by hounds from the netherworld as _fair_?

Nevertheless, the Briton continued in his condescending tone, "Therefore, I shall bestow upon you these." He snapped his fingers once and a rapier descended onto the ground – right between France's legs. The Norwegian didn't hear the Frenchman let out a rather unmanly yelp as he eyed the mace piercing the ground in front of him.

With a hand on his waist, Britain showed his other hand and proclaimed, "Be grateful to be before someone as great and merciful as I!" He neatly finished off his mockery of them with an outright cackle.

Norway merely leered at him again. This new England was getting a bit too full of himself…

When the Brit recovered from his laughter, the growls then began to grow louder. "Then again," —and his brow was raised again in challenge— "what could _ordinary pieces of metal_ possibly do against the _undead_?"

A piercing roar erupted and the hounds began their charge at the hapless group, claws outstretched, mouths rowed with pointed teeth open to bite. He faintly saw France holding onto the younger nation tighter, clearly reacting to the assault, but Norway merely snorted.

"Delgren."

With a nod, the troll stepped up and quickly dealt with four hounds at once by a mere swipe of its arm. On its right, Kurogane slashed away with his sword. But, just as Britain said, the blade only went through smoke, not meeting any flesh. The blonde magician was doing fairly better – he had somehow attained claws (they looked like extensions from his own hand) and hacked onto the hounds' shadowy bodies, their agonized cries howling upon contact.

Well, he'd rather not be outdone by mere humans. With an experienced hand, Norway beat through the ghost-hounds' numbers. It seemed that these hounds were weak against non-physical attacks so, with a few choice spells, he let his mace deal away with the—

The Norwegian paused to look for a moment before removing his mace from a felled hound. The human boy, Syaoran, was just standing there like a sitting duck. His eyes looked rather distant, probably lost in thought, but Norway knew this was no place for that.

A group of hounds also noticed the sitting duck and pounced, baring their bloodthirsty teeth. Norway reared them away with a quick summon of the ice-cold winds of _Niflheim_ to freeze them. He felt brown eyes stare at him as the Norwegian dealt the finishing blow and shattered the fragile bodies.

Norway furrowed his brows at him. Why wasn't he fighting back? Was he…

"Syaoran," he called the human with a sharp glance. When he caught the boy's attention, he pointed the mace at him. A rather bold move on his part, but he needed to confirm it for himself. "Tell me, whose side are you on?"

"I-I…"

He didn't like the hesitation in his voice. Norway positioned the mace higher so that it went up between Syaoran's eyes. "Whom will you _really_ fight for?" But the boy refused to speak. This irked the Nordic nation. Why won't he talk back? It can't be that he—

A ghostly growl came from behind Norway and, when he turned, the ghost-hound was moments away from feasting on a nation's—

"Watch out!"

Syaoran quickly sidestepped behind him to meet the ghost-hound, clapping his hands together. Norway watched as sparks of magic appeared from between the boy's hands and revealed a sword – surrounding in flames.

Before the Norwegian could even widen his eyes, Syaoran raised his blade and cried out, "_Kashin shourai!_"

The ghost-hound wailed as its entire body, smoke and all, began to _burn_ from where the blade cut it. As the remains burned away into ashes fleeting in the wind, Norway tried not to gape. The ghoul had gone… burned with a fire born from magic – no ordinary fire could otherwise burn a soul like that.

As he watched the sparks coming from the two-edged sword, Syaoran stood back up and gave him a serious look. "I fight… for my friends!"

Norway furrowed a brow, but gave him a small, satisfied smile. A fair answer. "Then, it'll be a pleasure fighting with you." Syaoran nodded, smiling back.

"_HAMA-RYUOUJIN!_"

Both stood still as fierce gusts of winds suddenly beat around them, effectively cutting away the rest of the ghost-hounds. Norway turned and found Kurogane crouched low with his sword outstretched and enveloped in energy. From the lifting dust clouds, Fai wooed, "Well done, Kuro-sama~!"

The bulky-looking human only let out a huff as he stood back up, lowering his sword but not yet sheathing it either.

All the while, Britain was eying the group's counterattack with a narrow-lipped smile. Even with the power he clearly possessed, he didn't lift a finger to help his minions in the least bit, just standing by the sidelines, not making any noise or interference. Norway knew this and faced the Brit with a frown.

"England! You've proven yourself as a powerful being, now stop all this—"

"I haven't proven _anything_ yet," the cloaked nation cut in, half-closed eyes drilling holes at him, "Moreover, how many times must I keep telling you not to call by that name. I am—"

Norway stopped him short with a grunt. Ignoring the glare directed at him, he muttered, "Let's finish this quickly, then. Delgren!"

The troll came to the nation's call and nodded once before hurtling itself towards Britain, hands outstretched and—

_BANG!_

Everyone watched, eyes wide in horror, as the troll suddenly roared in pain and tumbled off-course and into dirt, holding onto its bleeding arm the whole time. Britain just gave it a triumphant smile.

"Delgren!" Norway cried as he quickly went to the bleeding troll's side. He soothed the snarling troll in soft Norwegian as he carefully looked over the injury's extent. The profusely bleeding wound was surprisingly small, almost as if a bullet had hit it.

Norway's breath hitched and he twisted to face Britain just as the Brit let out a scoff. "A tad late, aren't you… Britannia?"

A low chuckle hinting the sound of danger echoed around them, the mere resonance haunting. A man clad in knee-high boots and gold-trimmed red coat stepped up from behind the Brit. A two-flapped hat rested on golden locks, an ostrich feather tucked between one of the flaps. Tied to his leather belt was an empty holster. The pistol in question remained in a gloved hand, its barrel still smoking from the fire.

Familiar green eyes slipped in a glint of dark amusement as the same yet unknown voice spat, "Quit whinin', ya bilge rat. The fun's jus' startin'."

* * *

**A/N**: While listening to _break the sword of justice_, I realize that I'm _so_ out of practice when writing the fight scenes. I hope they're alright!

Anyways, hope you guys have an interesting Halloween :)

~oOo~

**Special notes:**

Ginryû – name of Kurogane's sword; means **Silver Dragon** (The spelling of the name varies depending on the translator/publisher of the English version, but I went with the spelling hosted by Mangafox, the meaning from TRC Wiki)

Delgren – from the name Grendel.

Niflheim – one of the nine-worlds in Norse mythology, the underground realm of ice (and the place where pretty much everything else came from) (based from godchecker (dot) com)

Kashin shourai – one of Syaoran's less used spells (actually, he only used this spell once and even then, it failed); translated as **Come forth: Fiery Blaze** (the translation and spelling of the Romaji varies upon the translator/publisher of the English version but went with spelling as hosted by Mangafox and the translation according to _Chuang Yi_)

Hama-ryuoujin – one of Kurogane's common attacks; translated as **Dragon-king Demonbane Slash** (again, the translation and spelling of the Romaji varies upon the translater/publisher of the English version but went with _Chuang Yi_'s spelling and translation)

Bilge rat – literally, a rat that lives in a bilge, the lowest part of a ship filled with frankly gross water; on **International Talk Like a Pirate Day**, guys who celebrate this event call their friends this moniker – a friendly insult, in this case (based on talklikeapirate (dot) com (slash) howto)


	5. Waning

**Afterword on Independence**

* * *

France felt his jaw drop slightly at the sight of the two figures. One Angleterre was trouble enough, but _two_ of him? That was just too much for him to take. Especially with how the second England's clothes looked so eerily familiar, as if he'd seen that blood-red coat before, the ostrich feather on his hat supposedly bellowing in an old wind… Then, he remembered.

"Impossible," France muttered almost in a whisper. He felt his face drain of blood as he stared wildly at the man donned in red. It couldn't be. He couldn't possibly be _that_ England… right? But the second England smirked the same smirk that showed on England's face back in the days when he been more than just a mere rebel. It was the smirk of danger materialized – the smirk of a pirate. The nation froze. "… _Cher Dieu_."

Cold green eyes looked over them with a condescending gaze as the pirate drawled, "Well, well, well. Look wha' we go' 'ere." He turned to his left as he remarked to the cloaked other, "Seems like ol' England's go' a bunch a scallywags o'er."

Britain nodded sullenly, a scowl on his face. "Indeed."

Canada blinked at that. Why were they referring to England like another person? If the mage-England was Britain and the pirate-England was Britannia, then England-England was… He was giving himself a headache just by thinking about the whole thing.

Britannia's sudden attention to Syaoran pried Canada out of his thoughts. The smirk on his face was thin, a strange shadow lurking in those green eyes. "Tha' particular boy's go' an interestin'… feature in 'im, too."

Beside him, Britain narrowed his eyes, gaze fixed on the boy as well. "Yes, a very… _unique_ existence, isn't he?"

By then, the three nations only made faces, showing their confusion. What on Earth were they talking about?

As his smirk threatened to widen, Britannia brushed part of his coat aside to reveal a cutlass holstered to his belt and without a second thought, he unsheathed his blade. "A dubloon's sayin' the boy goes down beggin' on 'is knees."

Everyone instantly froze.

But Britain merely huffed. "If I recall, it was _I_ who accepted this boy's challenge. Besides, I would not stoop down so low as to—"

"Three dubloons t' whoever gets France soiled in 'is britches."

"… Make that five."

A feral grin appeared in the pirate-nation's face. "Pleasure doin' business with ye," he chirped as he crouched low in a stance. Then, before anyone could react, Britannia sprang up and lunged straight at Syaoran, their clash of steel ringing in their ears.

The sheer impact of the collision swept the fog around the others, engulfing them in the haze. Norway raised an arm to shield his eyes from the sudden blast, the cold biting onto his bare skin. When he thought the impact had finally settled, he lowered his arm and looked around. He frowned.

Syaoran and that second England disappeared into the fog, and so had everyone else. He was still sure that they weren't separated as far as he would have thought. Being fellow nations, he could tell that France and… the younger nation were all right, if only a little disoriented. Syaoran wasn't too far either, his presence currently battling against that Britannia.

He resisted the impulse to summon Delgren by his side, thinking about the poor troll's condition. He could still depend on his own magical ability, though he was starting to rethink his odds against a powerful nation in his prime. He steeled his eyes at nothing in particular.

Well, he'll just have to remind the Brit that the blood of a Viking hardly dies out.

There was a split second of thick silence before Norway widened his eyes at a presence and barely jumped out of the way of a surprise attack from the fog. _Barely_, meaning only getting a clean cut right across the side of his cheek. He was lucky to just have a flesh wound from that powerful assault as the Norwegian watched the ground where he had been moments ago crumble into pieces. But that wasn't what made him stare at the clearing fog. Oh, no.

He was staring right back at fathomless blue eyes framed by glasses and the only other real stoic frown any other Nordic nation had besides him.

"Sverige…"

The fellow Nordic didn't so much as nod in acknowledgement and only used raised his spear from the rubble, pointing it straight at him unflinchingly. The other's long dark blue double-breasted coat wafting along its edges and the glaring lens of his glasses made him look more severe. Norway tried not to grit his teeth. "Sverige, what're you…"

But before he could say anything more, Sweden leaped forward and thrust the spearhead at Norway repeatedly and in different patterns to keep the Norwegian guessing. He thought he would've been able to read the Swedish nation's moves by then, but instead found that his attacking style had changed altogether. 'Sweden' wasn't fighting like the Sweden he grew familiar with. Rather, he was more like…

"Enough of this!" Norway hissed and, with one swing of his mace, sent the other far back, landing a clear hit on his chest. The Norwegian clucked his tongue when there was hardly any sign of his attack at the other, but a small smirk had settled into his face. "You're not Sverige. You're just an illusion."

At that, a wild cackle resounded from the fog though it sounded as if it came from all directions. Norway kept an eye on 'Sweden' as the fog engulfed the other's body once more while a familiar voice returned, "You're always one of the more level-headed nations, aren't you? Hmph! That truly is your—"

"—weirdest trait, Norge!"

Norway only just had his mace up before defending against an axe aimed right at his head. He could see the weapon's sharp edge glinting over his new opponent's toothy grin. He could very well recognize that long black coat and red cuffs, wild blonde hair only mildly tamed by that small black hat, but the emptiness within those bright blue eyes sent him off guard for a moment. There was neither shine nor glint in those eyes, just… _nothing_. The Norwegian narrowed his eyes before releasing from the arms-lock.

The Norwegian forced a smirk upon his face as he watched 'Denmark' rest the handle of his great axe on his shoulder. "You couldn't have chosen an easier illusion to battle me with, Britain," he muttered, pointing his mace at the illusion. He'd rather be damned than to admit his growing apprehension of the whole ordeal.

'Denmark' only smirked at him – absolutely devoid of any emotion, Norway noted – and lowered his axe to a side. "Is that so?" he drawled, those blank eyes dead set on the nation. Slowly, his other hand gripped onto the handle and—

Norway barely had any time to blink before he met the other's axe with his mace, the force behind the attack strong enough to send him to the ground. The Norwegian gritted his teeth, willing his limbs to hang on. All the while, that empty smirk remained on the illusion's face.

"But don't you remember, Norge?" The nation could only furrow his brows at the question.

He swore poison could have poured out of that narrowed smile. "You belonged to me once. I can always take you back again whenever I please."

At those words, Norway's mind just blanked – and immediately regretted doing so. In his own weakness, he gave 'Denmark' the perfect chance to push him straight to the ground, the grass barely cushioning his back. He remained transfixed at the Danish man's eyes even as the axe pushed further against him.

"We don't have to do this the hard way," 'Denmark' muttered as he inched his face closer to Norway's, that filthy smirk of his firmly in place. "All you have to do is say the word." When the nation kept his silence, there was a tiny sparkle in those eyes. The other's face lowered to whisper in his ear, "_Submit._"

Finally, Norway regained the right sense of mind to kick the infernal man off him. Moving quickly, he gained a good distance from 'Denmark' and, his voice trickling with anger, muttered harshly, "_Muspelheim bann!_"

At the call, great tongues of fire burst to surround and consume the illusion, obscuring it from view. As Norway watched, he tried in vain to soothe his ragged breathing, to steady his pounding heart. He was well aware that even _those_ flames wouldn't harm that infuriating delusion, but it did help calm his nerves a bit.

Seeing another shadow coming out of the fog, Norway sighed, "Are you only going to face me with mere illusions, Britain?" The shadow stepped closer and he saw no cloak on the figure – it wasn't Britain. His eyes slipped in a glint of rare malice. "Coward."

An innocent smile that should've steadied his nerves sent his stomach churning. "Now, now," a recognizable voice cooed. "No need to be so upset."

He looked like he had been back in the War with that light blue uniform and the cross neck-charm on his jacket. He was even wearing the white beret on his head. The smile, however, was nothing but cold. And those eyes… They looked absolutely _thirsty_ for blood.

Norway stared as that familiar face smiled at him, _mocked_ him. "If you keep frowning like that, you'll grow more wrinkles!" With that, a soft laughter rippled from the other's lips, steadily turning louder and more cynical by the minute. The Norwegian was about to call out to the other when he realized.

"You're just another illusion…"

When the cackle died down, 'Finland' fixed fierce violet eyes on the Norwegian. "Norja, Norja, Norja…" More twisted giggles came from the other and Norway only noticed then of the shotgun on both hands. "This is no illusion." He brought a shotgun up at the nation. "This is all real."

Deep within the fog, France walked on aimlessly as he called out to his companions. "Fai! Syaoran! Norvege! Kurogane! Canada!" He quieted for a moment, waiting for a response but none came, only hearing his own voice echo back at him. This wasn't good. He got himself separated from the rest of them. He stopped in his tracks, worried eyes staring at the glinting rapier in his hand.

He and Norway were given weapons thanks to Britain, and Syaoran and his group had weapons of their own. But Canada… France bit on his bottom lip. He hoped the little nation was alright.

The sound of clanging metal brought the Frenchman back from his thoughts. He quickly looked around him, raising his rapier in position more out of reflex. It was slightly muffled because of the grass, but by the sound of it, it was definitely armor. Then, a thought dawned onto him. What if this was Britain? Or worse… _Britannia_? He couldn't suppress that shiver coming down his spine at the horrific realization.

There was another clanging step and by then, he was sure it was coming towards him. Hastily, he readied his blade and cried, "S-Stay back!" His voice was cracking but he didn't care at that point. "I-I'm warning you! Y-You won't—" The shadow began to step out of the fog and France let out a yelp. Nevertheless, whether it were Britain or even Britannia, he would hold his ground, yes, he would—

France froze in place when the figure finally appeared out of the fog, but the fear in his stomach was replaced with sudden nostalgia and even guilt. Before him was a familiar figure in armor, the metal almost unbefitting the delicate form. A small sword was tied to the side for a warrior but those gentle eyes belonged to a girl. France never thought he'd come face to face with those beautiful eyes again.

A name was on the woman's lips. "France…"

He thought he would break down then and there. "Jeanne…"

In another part of the fog, a pair of violet eyes wandered to browse the haze surrounding them but saw no sign of their companions. Canada sighed even as he walked on aimlessly, Mokona still in his arms. "This isn't good, Mokona. We've been walking around for a while now but we still didn't find the others yet." He resisted the urge to gulp. But at least, they hadn't bumped into Britannia yet or—

Canada instantly froze, taking in a sharp breath when they saw a shadow in the fog. Could it be France? Syaoran? Or could it be… The pair waited in silence to see if the shadow would come their way or not. He counted off to five in his mind but the figure still didn't move. Strange.

Slowly, the nation stepped forward to take a closer look. Around him, the fog was starting to clear and he was beginning to see the green grass underneath his feet, Mokona's blue earring glinting off whatever light was around them, the spiky blonde hair on the figure's head—

"It's Britain—!" Canada started but immediately muffled it with a hand over his mouth. Now he'd done it. They revealed their location and they were doomed to face Britain and his power! What were they going to do now? He didn't have anything to defend himself and Mokona. This was bad. This was really, really—

"It's Arthur."

It took Canada a few moments before he removed his hand over his mouth. "H-Huh?"

The white bunny swiveled itself around his arms to face him and cry out, "Matthew, it's Arthur! The real Arthur!"

"R-Really?" The nation looked back at the figure, and recognized the semi-proper yet comfortable-looking clothes and the pair of slippers on his feet.

Without a second thought, he ran over and spun around the figure to face the real England. More tears forming in his eyes, he held onto England's shoulder as if to affirm to himself it really was him. A wide beam formed out of his face. "England! It really is you! Thank goodness…"

"Wait!"

Canada blinked as he looked down to see Mokona in a very worried state. "W-What is it, Mokona?"

The bunny's flustered voice gave him a bad feeling. "Something's wrong! Mokona can't sense Arthur's heart at all!" He watched helplessly as it broke into silent tears. "Arthur's heart has disappeared!"

He forced a small smile on his face, but all that came out was a lopsided frown. "W-What are you talking about, Mokona?" He laid a hand over England's heart as he tried to persuade the bunny, "A-Arthur's fine, see? His heart is…" He paused. Soon, the hand over England's chest began to tremble before it quickly shifted to grab the other's hand that had been holding onto a book the whole time. Canada's eyes widened.

With worry etched in its tiny voice, Mokona muttered, "M-Matthew…?"

"H-His…" His own bottom lip was quivering, the tears threatening to fall once more. "H-His heart… it stopped…"

"No!" the bunny burst out, letting its tears fall freely even as Canada struggled to hold it together.

"H-His hand…" he strained to continue, "… it's already getting stiff…"

While Mokona slumped into his arms in tears, Canada refused to believe what he himself confirmed. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be. For one thing, the death of any of them would mean that the whole nation – the land and its inhabitants – are all dead. But they weren't standing on some desolate place; England, and the rest of the United Kingdom for that matter, was well and alive.

So what really happened to England?

His lips murmured the words before Canada could stop himself. "… their fault." Mokona slowly looked up and the nation knew his eyes looked so wild behind his glasses. He didn't care anymore. He just let it all out. "… It's their fault. It's all their fault. Britain. Britannia. _It's all their fault!_"

"M-Matthew—"

"_What kind of monsters are they!"_

"Monsters, you say?"

Canada finally snapped out of it at the familiar voice. He twisted around and found Britain just standing there with that twisted smirk on his face. Neither of them moved, the violet-eyed nation frozen in place. He wanted to punch him, kick him, slap him, _anything_ to wipe that look off the otherwise familiar face. Instead, he just stared.

The softening smile on the hooded man's face caught him off-guard. Then the haughty voice drawled, "Do you really want to know?"

At that, Canada blinked. Did he want to know? A part of him screamed to know, if only to shed some light in all this. But at the same time, a part of him hesitated, almost dreading to hear it. He might not actually like the bare truth of it. Either way, nothing could prevent Britain's next words from coming out.

"I am… England's soul."

* * *

**Special Notes**:

Muspelheim – one of the nine worlds in Norse mythology, "world of fire"

Bann – fire in Norwegian, according to Google Translate

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, so there _might_ be some hints on certain pairings but I'll let the readers figure out which ones I inserted. Lastly, I think Umineko's _Mirage Coordinator_ fits well enough for this chapter :]


	6. Penultimate Battle

**Afterword on Independence**

* * *

"You're England's… s-soul?" Canada echoed softly, finding it difficult to believe what he just said. But Britain only nodded, smiling at him with that twisted smirk of his. The violet-eyed nation was beginning to grow tired of that face.

"Technically, I'm just one part of England's soul," the other pointed out as if in normal conversation. "Britannia and I are but two of the four that comprise of his soul." Then, he cocked his head to a side, his eyes observing. "You look perplexed, Canada."

The bespectacled nation opened his mouth once, closed it, opened it again, then closed it again. Finally, he sighed, "That doesn't make any sense." He couldn't make any head or tail or this whole situation, his body already tired and aching all over. How could Britain say that? That he was… was… Canada shook his head before his thoughts could continue. "You're insane."

He only received a maniacal grin in return. "In some ways, yes, I would have to concur." Then, his eyes hardened into all seriousness. "But in the end, we are doing this for old England. Very soon now, we will have the power hidden inside that boy and we _will_ have our wish fulfilled."

When Britain had finished, Canada could only blink at him. "Your… wish?"

The cloaked nation's gentle smile felt like a slap in the face. It was like the England he knew was right in front of him even though he knew it wasn't really him. His voice too was just as gentle like in the old colony days. "Arthur's, British Empire's, Britannia's, as well as my own – they're all one and the same. They are old England's wish."

He felt that he had just discovered something of a revelation, but instead Canada only grew more confused. It must have shown in his face for Britain's expression turned into its usual scowl. "You should not get in the way of our plans any longer. It's much too troublesome as it is with the troll king and that frog's soldier interfering."

When Britain took a step toward him, Canada felt himself stiffen. He didn't know what was going to happen next. Would Britain take him down? Or would he just brush past him and let him live? He may have been warned not to go against them, but their little conversation (if you could call it that) somehow opened the latter option somehow… This Britain was just strange.

The cloaked nation was already less than an arm's length from him and Canada gulped. He tightened his grip around the quivering Mokona in his arms as Britain stretched his own hand and… grabbed onto the book in the still England's hands. Then, a low hiss pierced through the tension like a sharp blade.

"This wish _must_ be fulfilled."

Almost simultaneously, Britain took the book from the older nation's hands and then England's body collapsed to the ground. "England!" Canada quickly knelt down by the poor nation's still body, lifting the head from the ground. "England! England! Hey! Get a hold of yourself!" the bespectacled nation tried but England's eyes refused to open.

Britain's voice sounded like an echo from faraway. "I suggest you let him slumber. He's been tired for more than two hundred years."

But Canada wouldn't have it. He looked up to face the cloaked nation with fierce eyes. "You're the ones who did this to him! If you really are his s-soul," his eye twitched at the word, "then why are you doing this?"

His glare was met with coldness worse than greatest tundra. "For a gentle nation, I'm surprised you speak to me with such a tone. Honestly, didn't Arthur teach you some manners?" Then before the Canadian could resist, the cloaked nation snapped his fingers and a shimmer of a barrier imprisoned him bespectacled nation and the still body.

Unkind green eyes stared back at wild violet ones. "This should keep you and that rabbit out of trouble…" With a bellow of his cloak, Britain turned on his heel and walked off into the fog, leaving the remaining pair shaken.

Slowly, Canada took his eyes off the surrounding fog that engulfed the cloaked nation to glance at the body, those familiar green eyes closed to the world, then to Mokona who looked back at him. "W… What…" His throat suddenly felt dry so he gulped and tried again. His voice remained cracked. "W-What just… h-happened?"

"Mokona doesn't know," it said with a shake of its head. "Mokona is not sure but Mokona sensed that Britain's heart is the same as Arthur's." It looked at the still body and its expression drooped. "Britain's heart and Arthur's heart are both in pain."

Numbly, Canada could only nod. "Do you think he'll come back to finish us off?" he muttered, if only to keep the silence from consuming him.

He was rather surprised when he saw the bunny creature shaking its head at that. "Mokona doesn't think so." When it turned to look back at him, its expression looked hopeful. "Mokona doesn't think that Britain would do that."

Canada waited for a moment for the bunny creature to say more, but he furrowed a brow when it didn't. "… How can you be sure of that?"

The bunny creature returned to staring back at the still body in Canada's arms. "Mokona can't be sure, but…" When it looked back at him, the smile in its face left the Canadian almost speechless. "Britain is also Arthur, right? And Arthur wouldn't do that to his friends!"

For a good two seconds, the bespectacled nation just stared at its smile before finally shaking his head. He took a glance at the nearly invisible barrier surrounding them. Just a few minutes ago, he imagined that the fog almost eating away at them. Now within the barrier, he felt almost safe.

Britain was also Arthur, Mokona said. It sounded like it accepted that cloaked one's story whole-heartedly. As ridiculous as it was to believe a bunny creature, though, the thought was becoming more and more reasonable by the moment.

Canada looked out into the fog and let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "I just hope the others are alright…"

At that moment, a bullet connected with a shoulder bone and Norway let out a pained cry. Blood immediately started to trickle down his arm, his mace falling to the ground, as he clutched the injury with his good hand, his face wrinkled in pain. He may be a nation – these kinds of injuries weren't really life threatening to them – but the blow would leave one arm useless for a long while. _Svarte faen_.

"Aw, did that hurt?" Norway strained to stare wildly at 'Finland' as he stepped toward him, that twisted smile so unbefitting of the otherwise gentle nation's face. "Don't worry! Very soon, you won't be feeling anything at all."

Norway gritted his teeth. He needed to gain some distance away from this illusion. This may be an illusion, but the real Finland wasn't called "White Death" during the Second War for mere spite.

With one arm hanging limply, the Norwegian swiveled to a side and sprinted as far away from the other as possible. Even as the fog started to obscure his view, the all-too clear cackle cut through the haze. "Do you honestly think this fog will help you, Norja? I have Simo Häyhä on my side!"

Norway tripped on a stone just in time before a bullet zipped through the tops of his hair. Another bullet brought a second flesh wound on his cheek but he just kept on running. He needed some time for him to think of another plan to stop this opponent – this illusion clearly had Finland's fearsome battle skills and wasn't afraid to show them. But this was going to be harder than he anticipated, especially with the bullets just missing him every so often.

Then, when those precious seconds had his survival at stake, he tripped on his own two feet and started to descend on the not-so soft, very thorny rosebush. Norway twisted to his side before he could fall face-first on the sharp thorns but he instead landed on his already-bad arm. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from screaming and he could already taste something rusty on his tongue. He tried to pry himself out of the bush but the thorns fastened to his clothes and only dug deeper into his skin. The Norwegian let out a soft whimper.

He was utterly screwed.

Soft footsteps began to grow louder and louder until 'Finland' stood before him and showed a smug smirk. "Well, aren't we in a bind?" Despite his condition, Norway shot him a cold glare. This only seemed to encourage that smirk. "I knew you're a tough survivor, Norja." Those eyes darkened to a sickening color. "Well, _was_."

The Norwegian stared as that shotgun was brought up to his face, the front of the barrel almost touching his forehead. Slowly, the illusion pulled onto the trigger slowly, almost relishing the moment, and Norway thought this was a rather sad way to—

"_Kaa-aar-aar!"_

Norway blinked at the familiar cry and before he knew it, a chubby black bird wearing a pink bow tie was flying around the illusion's head, giving him a few good pecks. "Perkele!" 'Finland' cursed, swatting at the bird with his shotgun still at hand. But the bird only grew more fervent in its endeavor and received a colorful string of curses from the Finnish illusion. The Norwegian took this chance.

Using his remaining strength to raise his good arm, he muttered, "_Nilfheim is!_"

In an instant, great icicle stakes formed just above them, aimed right at the distracted 'Finland'. Norway held one finger up, waiting for the opportune moment. Then, the illusion managed to pry the squawking bird away. Norway lowered his finger.

Following his command, the stakes fell and struck their target without fail, the very ground rumbling at the impact. An icy breeze brushed his cheeks, almost soothing, reassuring the Norwegian of the done deed. Norway stared at the icicles still protruding from the ground, letting out a soft sigh. Then, he felt a tug on his good arm and saw the same black bird trying to pull him free from the rosebush.

Norway smiled despite himself. "Don't strain yourself for my sake, little one. My clothes are all tangled in this rosebush, I can't use my other arm, and I don't have the strength to stand back up…" The bird didn't seem to understand as it only pulled on his sleeve harder, beating its wings against the still air. The Norwegian frowned. "It's useless. You don't have to—"

Then, a familiar gloved hand held onto his arm and pulled Norway out of the entangling rosebush without any effort. Ignoring the surge of pain searing through his body at the sudden tug, the Norwegian stared at those dull yet warm violet eyes, silver-blond hair framing the small smile. For the longest time, he didn't think hot tears would form from his eyes as he continued to stare at the youngest of the Nordic nations.

"Island…"

The other Nordic nation raised a brow at Norway as he muttered, "You and the other Nordics are always so troublesome." When the chubby black bird landed on the Icelander's shoulder, the Norwegian remembered where he had seen it before. It was Iceland's puffin, Mr. Puffin.

Norway struggled to regain his composure. "W-What are you doing here, Island?" Damn his voice for cracking. "You shouldn't even be in London. You need to get as far away from here as you—"

But the other only wrapped an arm around his waist with the other arm grabbing hold of the Norway's good arm, threw it over his shoulders and helped Norway stand up properly. "You shouldn't be stubborn at a time like this." With that, the two began to walk away from the rosebush and into the fog. To wherever Norway didn't know but wouldn't have it.

"Island!" He struggled to release himself from the other's hold. "L-Let go of me! It's dangerous here! You have to—"

'Iceland' glanced at him with hard eyes. "Bror."

That was enough for the Norwegian's face to pale. "Y-You're… an illusion as well?"

The illusion gave him a wry smile. "The real Island wouldn't call you bror even in a situation like this?"

Norway shook his head vigorously, willing the tears to go away but they wouldn't. He bowed his head as he let himself be dragged to Odin-knows-where. To be called bror by Island, and without so much as embarrassment in his tone too… There was _no way_ this was the real Island. But to confirm his being a mere illusion in that manner… That was just cruel.

The silence lingered for a while until the Norwegian muttered, "… You were sent here by Britain, right? Why are you helping me?" Or was he only being dragged to something worse than 'Finland' and his bullets? He wanted to ask that last question, but didn't find the strength to utter them. He was just so tired…

The arm supporting the Norwegian tightened. "Britain didn't conjure me."

It took him a few seconds before Norway lifted his head to look at the illusion. "Then, who…?"

"Dovregubben."

Norway lowered his head again and stared at the moving ground for a good two minutes before letting out a chortle of laughter, surprising himself. It was the relieving kind, and he felt the weight on his shoulders lighten somewhat. Finally, Norway sighed, "Then I suppose I am indebted to his Majesty yet again."

'Iceland' only smiled. "He says that you bring him some of that surströmming you humans seem to enjoy so much."

"I'll personally deliver them to him once this is all over, then." A more comfortable silence engulfed them for another moment, Norway taking a good look at the illusion. He looked just like the young nation, but then he finally noticed the faint trace of magic about him. The Troll King's magic. This may just be an illusion, but Dovregubben always knew how comforting it was for him to see a glimpse of Iceland.

Finally, Norway broke the silence. "So where are you taking me?"

'Iceland' adjusted his grip on the Norwegian. "To where Britannia is, of course."

"W-What?" He hadn't been expecting that. "But my mace…"

At that moment, the puffin flew to his side, holding a familiar blade between its talons. There was smugness in the illusion's voice as he muttered, "You will need something more to your advantage for this battle."

They paused for a moment and Norway realized the regaining strength in his legs. 'Iceland' let go of the Norwegian's arm and Norway noticed that his injured arm, along with the rest of his wounds down to the scratches on his cheeks, were healing. He looked at the illusion to ask, but the other beat him to it. "We wouldn't have an injured man on the battlefield, would we?"

Norway blinked and tried to roll the shoulder that had been hit by the bullet. It felt better than it did before. Softly, he muttered, "No, I suppose not…"

'Iceland' smiled at him and, taking the weapon from the bird, gave it to Norway. "See if you still remember how to use this."

The Norwegian took it without another word and immediately began to swing it once then twice. His moves were a bit rusty after centuries of not touching a blade save for a kitchen knife, but the spatha remained familiar to him and fit his hands perfectly. A few more swings with it and he should get back to the old rhythm. Easy. "I assume Dovregubben also had this conjured?"

When the illusion shook his head, Norway blinked. 'Iceland' smiled at his expression as he explained, "Arthur had it done especially for you. You wouldn't even need a physical shield to go with it."

But Norway barely heard the second sentence as he gaped slightly at the illusion. "Arthur? Do you mean Britain? Or Britannia?" Why would any of the two even _consider _giving him an advantage against them in the first place?

'Iceland' only gave him a vague, "You'll understand soon enough," before the illusions, the false Iceland and the puffin, vanished into a huff of smoke.

The Norwegian remained fixed at the spot where the delusion disappeared until he took a close look at the sword in his hand. Engraved in the metal was a short string of Anglo-Saxon futhorc, and Norway was convinced Dovregubben couldn't have made this. These were England's specialty. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to decipher the encryption. It read…

"It says, _by the grace of the Valkyries_."

Norway looked up and stared at a long-lost smile of a familiar Brit. The clothes, however, were rather old-fashioned with the mode of dress dating back as far as the 17th century. Back when a certain Empire still had America as a colony… He couldn't believe who, _what_ he was seeing. "…A-Arthur…?"

The smile remained the same as that hand reached out to him. "Will you aid us for this final battle?"

* * *

**Special/translation notes: **(probably the most humon-reference-heavy among all the chapters xD)

Svarte faen – intended to be used as "fucking shit" in Norwegian, though its direct meaning is different (faen in Norwegian literally means the Devil/Satan)

Simo Häyhä – a Finnish sniper quite well known during WWII and yes, another reference from humon. In truth, he was the one nicknamed "White Death" by the Soviets during the Winter War, killing about 508 of their soldiers while dressed in that white military coat (camouflage), but hey, he was Finnish too so you can't really say that Finland can't bear a similarly-badass title either.

Perkele – a common Finnish curse word, taken from humon and her _SatW _(that and I so wanted to try out a Hetalia-Finland who curses outright x)

Nilfheim – one of the nine worlds in Norse mythology, "world of ice"

Is – ice in Norwegian, according to Google Translate

Island – Iceland in Norwegian; regarding his eye color, his eyes are colored blue in the anime, as were in the earlier artworks – they were later changed into violet by Himaruya so I went with that

Mr. Puffin – name of Iceland's puffin, according to APH Wiki; its cry came from Wiki though it also said it was mostly quiet

Bror – brother in Norwegian; in that wordy Nordic comic (yep, that's really the name in starry-sky), Iceland passively yet adamantly refused to call Norway "onii-chan" and that's why Norway would be surprised to be called that even in their situation

Spatha – a type of straight sword that was popular during the Migration Period and the Viking Age; Viking Age spathas were also called Viking swords – in other words, a perfect weapon for dear Norge

Surströmming – fermented *cough*_rotten_*cough* herring eaten commonly throughout the Nordic countries, though the pickled herring is more popular in Denmark (this was also from a strip of humon's _SatW_)

Anglo-Saxon futhorc – according to Wiki, there are three runic alphabets: the Elder Futhark, the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc and the Younger Futhark. The other two came from the Elder Futhark, but the Younger Futhorc became divided into the long-branch runes (also called Danish, though they were used in Norway and Sweden too) and the short-branch kind (also called Swedish-Norwegian, though they were also used in Denmark)

* * *

**A/N:** Finally, I got all of the Nordics in! =does happy dance=

Now, regarding my use of 'Arthur', I pretty much ran out of names for England ('Albion' would be too young – that would be more accurate during the days of Chibirisu), and 'British Empire' would be technically correct for use during America's colony days and the American War of Independence. So I came up with the idea that in the old days, the nations used to call each other by their human names _by default_, signifying their familiarity and alliances with one another. This custom soon became obsolete, however, as they grew more concerned with their own welfare. The custom never died out though because of the more intimate nations like Austria and Hungary.

Phew, long explanation is long. Oh and before I forget, this chapter's BGM is _breathless_ from Soundscape.


	7. Uncast Shot of the Past

**Afterword on Independence**

* * *

Canada let out another soft breath and he frowned as he saw it form into a small cloud before him. In his arms, Mokona shivered and the nation tried his best to cuddle the poor creature while trying not to stir the motionless England whose head now lay on his lap. He saw the bunny creature curl up against him and he smiled in what felt like a long time.

Even when it was July, the cold never seemed to completely go away in England's place. Canada was glad he was used to the freezing temperatures (partly thanks to playing hockey outdoors in the middle of winter) or he too would be shaking like a leaf. The Canadian carefully adjusted his legs without disturbing the sleeping form of the older nation.

Yes, he was now sure that the Brit was only sleeping. Although doctors would call it a comatose, England's face looked more peaceful than it would be when a person was battling for his life. Canada had seen _that_ face too many times before.

Canada looked down at the bunny creature in his arms and muttered softly, "Still hanging in there, Mokona?"

The creature shivered for another moment but it looked up at him and smiled, "Mokona will be okay. Matthew is very warm!"

The Canadian smiled back. "Don't worry. The others will find us. We just need to wait a bit longer."

Mokona nodded weakly before cuddling further into his jacket. Canada watched the creature until he saw its small form rise and fall, nodding off into quiet slumber. He watched it for a moment longer before gazing out into the surrounding fog.

They were in a tight spot, he knew, but waiting was probably the best thing to do right now. His nerves had calmed tremendously after his outburst earlier and now Canada felt rather stupid for wasting his energy like that. He needed as much energy as he could muster for whatever happens next.

Taking in a deep breath, Canada tried to piece together what little he knew of the situation.

If he were to believe what Britain said, then England's soul had been split into four pieces. Two of them were Britain and Britannia, though he hadn't seen the other pieces. The underlying _yet_ lay heavy in Canada's mind, but he shook it off.

Britain and Britannia's actions had been rather erratic, almost out of control or without a real reason except that they merely want a good fight. However, with the way Britain acted towards him and Mokona just now… They seemed to have an underlying motive after all that united their efforts to make something happen. And that something was England's wish.

Canada frowned as many possibilities filled his mind of what that wish could be. His empire restored… An unlimited supply of tea at hand… France finally not being a perverted asshole… Or maybe… It was plausible, probably the most likely among everything else, but the Canadian didn't want to close himself from other options.

The more important question was how they were going to achieve that. Canada remembered with a frown of that moment when Britain snatched the book from England's hands, and he blinked. If England truly had been unconscious the whole time, why did his body only fall when Britain disturbed him and not when Canada did?

A hunch pointed to the book, or to be more specific, what was inside it. But that book could have anything inside, given the variety of other books England had in his libraries. Canada didn't know what its contents were – he frowned at himself for not looking at its pages earlier – but they seemed important enough for Britain to take it himself.

The cloaked nation also mentioned that they were going to take something from a boy. Well, that 'boy' could be anybody, especially since many things are much younger than the Brit really. Canada needed to think. Given the people involved, the only ones England would call a boy were the Canadian himself and…

Canada gasped in realization just as he heard two pairs of approaching footsteps. He turned to find Fai and Kurogane looking rather worse for wear but otherwise fine. He could feel the relief bubbling in his chest. "Fai! Kurogane!"

The smile only left Fai's face when the two came close enough to see the barrier surrounding the Canadian, Mokona and the sleeping England. Kurogane particularly eyed the Brit's unmoving body. "Is that… the real one?"

"Yeah," the Canadian nodded. "He's the real deal."

Fai knelt on one knee and placed a palm over the translucent barrier. He looked at the slumbering England. "What happened to him?" Then to Canada, "Did Arthur-san cast this barrier around you?"

Canada blinked at the prospect of Fai believing that England even _could_ conjure magic. Nevertheless, he shook his head. "…Britain did it, the barrier I mean. He wanted to keep us out of his way and…" He blinked off for a second before remembering what he just discovered earlier. "Syaoran! We have to get to Syaoran! Quickly!"

Kurogane blinked from behind Fai but the blonde man spoke slowly, "We will, Matthew-san, don't worry. But first, we need to—"

"No!" Canada frantically cut in, "You don't understand! It's Syaoran! Britain and Britannia are after Syaoran!"

Fai's blue eyes widened. "Eh?"

"Then, step aside."

Canada slowly looked behind Fai and Kurogane even as the two did the same and he blinked. It was France, looking to be in the best condition than any of them, if not only slightly ruffled. In one hand was the rapier Britain gave him while the other held a simple yet elegant dagger. Even from a distance, Canada could see the seriousness in those blue eyes. "Step aside. S'il vous plaît."

As the two slowly moved a few steps back, a new breeze wafted about them and Canada felt a bead of sweat slide down his neck. "F-France…?"

Quietly, the Frenchman moved closer until he touched the surface of the barrier with the flat end of his dagger. The words left his lips in a soft whisper. "_Que Dieu nous aide._"

For a moment, nothing happened. Canada opened his mouth to say something when he heard something shatter around him. He looked and found the barrier breaking away into disappearing pieces of glass-like shards. As soon as the last fragments of the barrier disappeared, France knelt beside the Canadian and asked with concern, "Are you alright? That pirate-brute didn't hurt you, did he?"

It took him a few seconds to recover from the amazing feat the Frenchman just did before he could respond. "Um, no, I'm fine. Although, I can't say the same for England…" he finished softly as he frowned at the motionless England.

France glanced at the Brit and put his rapier down before laying a palm over the other nation's chest, over his heart. He frowned. "He only has one fragment of his soul left inside of him." The Canadian's breath hitched.

Standing beside Fai, Kurogane stared with narrowed eyes at the French nation. "Fragment of… his soul?"

France looked at them with a slight frown. "I suppose the two of you need to be informed of the whole situation. Canada," he continued in a small voice for only the Canadian to hear, "you can let Angleterre lie here on the grass. We need to be on our way if we wish to save jeunes Syaoran as well."

"W-Wait a sec!" Canada cried out just as France picked up his rapier and stood back up. "Y-You mean we're going abandon Eng—I mean, Arthur? We can't do that! Something might come and… and…" He made a helpless gesture with his hand before bursting out, "We can't just leave him like this!"

The Frenchman merely shrugged. "Why not? Nothing will harm him in his own home," he added with a small smile. Canada frowned at that face. He could object, but the other nation's eyes looked very tired, or rather puffy as if he had just cried. It was that face that made him bite at his bottom lip, but say nothing more.

Canada took a moment to position England to lie more comfortably on the grass. He couldn't believe he was going to leave the poor Brit like this, but he had no other choice. His unmoving body would just be a burden to them and slow them down. But even so…

He felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Fai by his side with a reassuring smile on his face. "Let him rest," he muttered. It helped. Canada was finally about to stand up when he remembered a certain creature still sleeping in his arms.

Fai already seemed to be a step ahead of him. "Mokona can keep England-san company."

At that, Canada blinked. "You…"

Fai just smiled. "Come on. We need to hurry or Kuro-chû might yell."

The Canadian stared off into those blue eyes before slowly setting the sleeping Mokona beside the slumbering England. As much as he wanted to ask, those kinds of questions could wait.

The two hurried to where the other two waited for them, already a few steps into the fog. As soon as they grouped together, Canada asked, "So where to?"

Kurogane looked behind his shoulder to leer at the fog. "To where those other Arthurs are, right?"

France nodded before turning on his heel. "This way." With heavy feet and butterflies in his stomach, the Canadian followed the Frenchman's lead as they made their way across the fog.

They kept a normal walking pace, though the steps were getting bigger and faster. As they walked, the French nation explained the situation to Kurogane and Fai. Canada, who already knew, had other things still occupying his mind.

France, of all nations, was guiding them to where Britain and Britannia were. The Canadian was uncertain how the other nation would know where to go, but with the way that the Frenchman had just behaved… Something must've happened to him back in the fog. Either that or he could sense where the enemy was, which really wasn't that uncommon to hear. The older, more battle-worn nations had that kind of knack that developed over time.

Now, if only America were that sharp…

The more troubling issue was the fragments of England's soul. France mentioned that three of the fragments had already gone; Britain and Britannia made up two of them, and one still remained within England… so where's the fourth?

As they walked on, bits of the fog parted further and further until they came into a clearing of bare rock and dirt. No patches of green could be seen… all except for a pair of green eyes staring back at them.

The familiar low chuckle echoed around them even as they circled into position. Being the only one without a real weapon to protect himself, Canada stood behind them though he refused to remove himself from this battle. There's no turning back now.

The figure sitting on the biggest rock stood back up and placed his hat back on. "Brit'n said ye'd be comin'." He spat as far as he could in the group's direction. He smirked. "Took ye long enough t'."

Canada clenched his fists. "Where's Syaoran?"

"Yer lookin' fer th' boy?" Britannia raised a thick brow at them, the edge of his smirk widening. "Let's jus' say 'e los' in 'is own li'l challenge."

The ever-sharp edge of a blade revealed itself from its sheath as Kurogane glowered at the pirate-nation with a dark smile. "You scum. I'll hack that tongue of yours right out of your—"

France held out a hand before the ninja could continue, though he too gave a cold glance towards the smirking pirate. "Tell us where Syaoran is."

As a reply, Britannia removed his cutlass from its sheath. "Ye'll have t' figh' fer i'."

Kurogane fully unsheathed his sword just as the Frenchman brandished his rapier in a stance. A shadow hovered over his blue eyes. "With pleasure."

For a long moment, everything was still, the tension building with every second, and Canada gulped. Then, in the blink of an eye, they were off, sprinting towards the smirking Britannia. The Canadian felt his jaw slack at the sight of their speed when his view was shortly blocked by Fai's back. He was about to move aside for a better look when Fai held a hand out. Still not meeting him in the eye, the magician muttered, "Stand back."

Before he could even make sense of the words, the tips of Fai's fingers glowed and a pattern of otherworldly characters appeared as those fingers traced them out of thin air. From the pattern shot out sharp beams of light aimed right at the pirate nation that hit their target without fail, leaving an explosion of dust and destroyed rocks that came flinging aimlessly.

Canada raised his arms to protect himself from the hurling rubble out of reflex. When he slowly lowered his arms, he tried to peek at the parting dust clouds and asked, "Did it work?"

He didn't need to see the frown on Fai's face as the haughty figure of Britannia stood firmly in place, looking as if untouched by the attack. The Canadian didn't get the chance to droop at this, though, as his purple eyes caught the sheen of a blade before the sound of Fai's rapier and the pirate's cutlass clashing echoed sharply around them.

The smirk on Britannia's face made him appear amused about all this. "So ye finally go' th' balls t' face me, eh, ye yellow-bellied frog?"

France's own smirk rivaled the pirate's toothy grin. "And your mouth is just as vulgar as I remember, I see!" He punctuated his statement off with a clean cut of his main gauche to the surprised Britannia's cheek. Using the momentum of his swing, the nation gave him another slash that tore through the pirate's coat before making a quick step back.

And let Kurogane deliver a powerful blow at the unsuspecting pirate. Blade met blade, and Canada felt the impact of it even from his distance. He could only imagine the strength behind Kurogane's attack. He watched, speechless, as the two crossed swords over and over, each strike more powerful than the last, until Britannia decided to simply step away from that last hit. The ninja smirked.

When Kurogane's sword swung against air, the blade became to shimmer in a bright light. Raising his now glistening sword, he cried out, "_HIKÔGEKI!_"

The bright light quickly sprung out of the blade and, like an aimed lightning strike, dived towards Britannia with a thunderous descent. The collision broke the very ground into crumbling pieces of stone, bringing about another cluster of dust clouds.

All eyes were transfixed on the dust clouds, the apprehension in Canada's throat nearly choking him. Did Kurogane do it? Was it finally over?

A new breeze wafted by and a cutlass sliced through the parting dust clouds as Britannia merely smirked. "No' t' bad," he muttered, wiping away any dust that remained on his red coat. That smirk widened and his other hand went for his pistol. "Bu' now i's my turn."

Britannia took a step forward and suddenly, he was right next to France, his cutlass ready to strike right at the other's head. Canada tried to warn the Frenchman but the words never left his lips as the pirate bombarded the poor French nation with strikes that seemed to come from all directions; France barely managed to block them all.

In retaliation, Kurogane prepared to strike the pirate from behind. Except, Britannia already saw him coming and stepped aside at the last second, letting France take the blow instead. The ninja only just twisted his sword to hit the Frenchman on the head with the flat side of his weapon.

"Shit," Kurogane breathed as France slumped to the ground. Then, just when he felt a presence from beneath, an aimed hit to the hilt of his blade sent the ninja's sword upward and revealed an open torso, which Britannia struck multiple times. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the speed, and Canada could've sworn those hits were aimed right at those vital points – the ones that could immobilize a person in seconds.

The Canadian saw Fai's fingers scribble frantically against the still air to conjure the looping pattern again when he heard two shots being fired. The next instant, the magician kneeled to the ground, his good arm covering his bleeding shoulder, the entire arm now drenched in blood.

"Fai!" Canada cried out as he slumped to Fai's side, looking at the extent of his injuries. One bullet hit right at the arm's socket, leaving that appendage slack and useless. The hand on the same arm received the other bullet, a gaping hole in the middle of the palm. The poor blonde was breathing heavily and the Canadian only noticed then that he was trying to say something.

"Won't… close," the magician gasped in between ragged breaths. "Injuries… can't heal… bullets… too deep…"

A loud cackle ringed through his ears and Canada saw Britannia laugh aloud as if nobody could hear him. Wild green eyes flashed as he cried, "Was tha' i'? Was tha' all ye've go'? Huh?" The closest body next to his feet was Kurogane and he kicked him without mercy. "Pathetic! Simply—" His words were cut off when a single piece of stone was thrown at him.

Britannia was simply too much, he couldn't take his ego any longer. Canada didn't even realize he had thrown the rock – the biggest one he could find – at the pirate until he found himself at the post-pitching position. The pirate's glare towards him was absolutely terrifying but he toughened himself up and put on a brave face. "Stop being such a big bully, Britannia!"

The pirate's thick brows furrowed deeper and he took one step. "Why yah li'l…" Another step and he raced towards the Canadian who just closed his eyes as tight as he could. "Ye'll pay fer tha', ya scurvy—"

Canada waited for the pain to come when the nostalgic sound of a musket shot silenced the words. When he opened his eyes again, memories of an old war replayed in his mind as the figure still aimed the familiar weapon at the now wounded enemy.

Clad in the red uniform of the British Army, the man's somber face was framed with spiky blond hair, fierce green eyes gazing forward unfalteringly. Even the voice was just as how he recalled it. "Don't you dare harm one of my boys."

* * *

**Translation/Special Notes:**

Que Dieu nous aide – God help us in French, according to Google Translate. His words also signify that he's using _words of prayer_, something like a sort of exorcism rite. To my knowledge, magic (especially the type that England uses) is considered as the work of the devil so it's by consequence that it's best purged by the Word and/or intervention of God (though I suppose it can also be countered by magic).

Main Gauche – This refers to the type of the dagger that cher Francis is using, more known as parrying daggers. In French, main gauche means "left hand", according to Wiki.

Hikôgeki – one of Kurogane's less used attacks; translated as **Flying Light Attack **according to _DelRey_, which also uses this Romaji-spelling (and from my interpretation of the attack, it's a rather weak one compared to the previously used _hama-ryuoujin_)

Britannia's sword-and-gun style – The one time I've seen this style being used was with Cervantes from the _Soul Series _games with his Soul Edge/Acheron and Nirvana, though he uses a pistol sword instead of a real gun. It did help (kind of) that he too was a pirate, albeit undead. And Spanish.

* * *

**A/N:** At last, the last fragment shows himself! (As a hint of his identity, I nicknamed him B.E. ;) But if you want to read more of the last soul fragment inside England, go ahead and read the twin story (if you don't mind all the italics, that is).

Also, a few things I just realized: (1) Matthew's been rather visible in the last few chapters – it feels almost OOC xD; and (2) Francis rarely has those dead-serious moments – serious!France needs more love~

Chapter's BGM: _You Shall Overcome_ (Soundscape)


	8. The Will for a Wish

**Afterword on Independence**

* * *

Drops of blood colored the rocky ground as a wounded arm now hung limp on Britannia's shoulder. The pirate tried to cover the injury even as his eyes widened in anger. "W-Wha' th' _hell_, 'mpire!"

Canada watched in a bit of a daze as the image of England, no, British Empire merely reached for a cartridge box attached to his belt and picked out a paper cartridge. He began to reload his musket, tearing off the paper with his teeth and pouring the black powder into the barrel, as he raised a thick brow at the fuming pirate and muttered dryly, "I fired without aiming. Next time, that vulgar mouth of yours comes off."

By then, Britannia was shaking (in anger or in fear?), those bright green eyes glaring. "W-Wha' th' hell d' ye think yer doin', 'mpire? This ain' par' of th' plan! Yer suppos' t' be on _our_ side, ya double-crossin'—!"

"Hold your tongue," the Empire cut him off with a stony glance. "I'm not betraying anyone. I'm trying to make you see some sense. Do you or Britain _honestly_ think you know what you're both doing? _Do you!_" The last words came out more like an angry yell, but the Empire's face remained devoid of emotion.

Canada knew what that face meant. British Empire was more than just angry. He was absolutely livid.

The ramrod was snapped back in place and the musket was aimed right at the paling Britannia's face. British Empire's voice came out low and menacingly. "Let me tell you something, Britannia. I hope for your sake you're listening."

All around the still terrain, there was a holding of breaths. Canada found it hard to even gulp.

Only bright green eyes stared down at the enemy. "England has come a long way – _centuries_ before the time of pirates, I assure you – to be at the point where he is now. Everyone has some inkling of how much he's put himself in. He's been trampled on by horses, hacked, slashed and beaten up by invaders, and almost had his heart ripped apart. Hell," he offered a grunt, "his punk phase seemed like a modern version of his pirate tomfoolery."

The pirate had the nerve to cry out, "Bu', tha's neith'r 'ere nor—!"

"What I'm trying to get into your thick skull is," the Empire continued with a firmer voice, eyes glaring at the pirate in warning, "England is a strong enough person to know what he really wants and how he will go about things. He doesn't need to console feelings of guilt and regret to persuade himself. He knows from experience that they wouldn't help him in the long term."

A small smile appeared on British Empire's face. "England already made his choice. That's partly the reason why he came to Canada's birthday celebration not too long ago," he muttered, jerking the Canadian out of his stupor. Then, the anger in those eyes became mixed with resolution. "That's the reason why I can't let you and Britain's foolish actions turn all of England's efforts end up for naught!"

For a moment, Britannia's face hardened into one of stupefaction. Then, a deep scowl gave way. "Ye don' ge' i', ye really don' ge' i', do ya, 'mpire?" He threw his pistol away somewhere behind him and pointed his cutlass at the Empire with his one good arm. "Brit'n an' I are doin' all this fer England! We're goin' through all this _shit_ t' gran' ol' England's wish! Ye've jus' gone t' far off yer rocker t' realize."

"And so you've decided to turn a deaf ear to reason," the Empire sighed, and Canada felt a surge of panic when British Empire suddenly lowered his musket. But then, his hand fished out a familiar triangular shaped blade specifically designed to be attached to the musket's barrel. "Perhaps brute force would have a louder voice."

There was the definite click of the bayonet becoming fitted into the barrel and then the clear-cut sound of weapons clashing happened within less than a second, the experienced Empire overcoming the distance between him and Britannia with impossible speed. Feeling a little bit like a part of the background, Canada watched as the two images of England crossed weapons viciously and mercilessly, as if uncaring to whatever happened to the other. It all felt so intense – Britannia ripping a part of the red coat, British Empire cutting a long gouge on the pirate's cheek – that he practically felt the electrifying trill coming up through his feet.

Huh?

Before he could even blink, Canada felt all the fibers in his body as a powerful sensation struck him right to the core. He didn't even realize that the distant screams of pain ringing through his ears were his own. The Canadian barely made out the sudden fret on the Empire's face. _"Canada!"_

A crucial mistake. Britannia slipped right through his opponent's defense and landed a solid blunt hit to his stomach before kicking the Empire to the ground. Struggling to remain conscious, Canada let out a trembling cry. "E-Empire…"

The pirate stomped on the Empire's back before he was given a chance to stand back up. Britannia promptly spat at the one under his foot, and his face crinkled with disdain. "Ya scurvy cur. I should rip off tha' blast'd mouth'a yers."

"Stand down, Britannia."

Canada didn't have to swivel his head around as the cloaked form of Great Britain appeared behind the Empire, clamping a gloved hand on the pirate's shoulder. "We need him in one piece if we want our plan to succeed."

There was quiet shuffling along the ground, barely getting the others' attention, until a familiar voice cried out, "Y-You won't get away with this, mon ami…" All eyes stared as France gave them a feral grin despite still lying on the ground. "You will not have the last laugh, I promise you…"

"Is that so, you wretched vermin?" The returned smile on Britain's face was downright menacing. "Has the filth you've been digesting rotted your mind?" he mocked as kicked dirt onto the Frenchman's face, gagging him. "Oh, wait." The smile showed teeth. "You've never had a proper brain to begin with."

The body still beneath Britannia's foot scoffed, "How very underhanded of you, Britain."

"Why, ye—" Britannia began but paused as soon as Britain motioned for the foot to be removed. As soon as the pirate did so, Britain yanked on the Empire's ash blond locks. The force was so sharp, it sent tears to the Empire's eyes yet he refused to let them fall.

He used his grip on the Empire's hair to force the other to look at him straight in the eye. "I must say, I've always hated you the most among all of us, even more than that frog. Would you care to know why?" Britain's hand shifted to grip onto the Empire's chin, urging him to nod.

The smile on Britain's face changed into a scornful glower. "It's because, of all the power you had within your grasp, you remain weak against the very colonies who went against you. Even in the moment when that brat could've fallen, you _refused_ to pull the trigger." Britain removed his hand from the other's chin to slap him across the face. "It's because of you and your weakness that England continues to suffer for the past two hundred years!"

The Canadian watched, too stunned to close his gaping mouth, as Britain kicked the musket away from the Empire's grasp. A near-ethereal glow then began to surround them as Britain muttered words Canada couldn't fathom. "_Undetriginta spiritus aeriales, vinculum facti inimicum captent. Sagitta Magica, Aer Capturae!_" In an instant, thick shining ropes tugged around the Empire, tying him immobilized to the ground.

Britain finally walked away from the now tied-up Empire and towards the biggest rock within the clearing as he called out, "You may be the so-called strongest fragment of England's soul, but not even you can be exempted from the arcane rules of Western Magic."

His legs couldn't take it anymore and finally gave way for Canada to slump to the ground, who was still wide-eyed as the situation took on a drastic turn. France was barely conscious and remained to lie on the ground. Beside the Canadian, Fai's arm was still bleeding. Kurogane stayed paralyzed throughout the whole ordeal. Even British Empire, the strongest ally on their side, was all tied up. Canada was practically useless, needless to say, and he felt the helplessness like a dead weight over him.

In a whisper-soft voice, he muttered, "So what's going to happen now?"

"What's going to happen, you ask?" Britain echoed, looking straight at the despairing Canadian. He smiled a hollow smile as he placed a palm over the boulder. At his touch, it began to shimmer, growing brighter and brighter by the moment. Canada stared as the stone changed form, and transformed into a familiar boy with tousled brown hair and clad in bloodied otherworldly clothes.

As the boy floated limply beside him, Britain's eyes twinkled in all seriousness. "Well, we're going to continue what we've started."

* * *

**Special notes**:

Ramrod, bayonet – Both are parts of the rifle musket, the ramrod being a stick used to push down the gunpowder into the musket barrel while the bayonet is that deadly looking spike or blade placed on the musket barrel to transform the musket into a makeshift pike or spear. Mind you, the bayonet made all the difference, accounting for about a third of the casualties on the battlefield. This info came from Wiki so you can read more stuff about it there.

Unincanted _sagitta magica, series fulgularis_ – _Magic archer, arrow of lightning_ in Latin. This in itself is a simple battle spell, a sort of magic bullet in its lightning version. An unincanted spell is a spell that wasn't verbally chanted, so it's much harder for the spell to materialize as it depends on the skill and mental power of the caster. _DelRey_'s _Lexicon Negimarium_ provides a more thorough explanation of this.

_Undetriginta spiritus aeriales, vinculum facti inimicum captent. Sagitta magica, aer capturae_ – _Twenty-nine wind spirits, become a chain that binds and capture my enemy. Magic archer, air capture!_ in Latin, not mock-Latin to those who might ask. _DelRey_'s _Lexicon Negimarium_ gives a highly informative explanation of how this came about.

* * *

**A/N**: Couldn't help myself making Britain the bad guy xp (And can anyone tell where the Latin spells came from? ;)

_Chapter's BGM_: when two powers collide


	9. What the Universe Conspires

**Afterword on Independence**

* * *

Canada froze at the sight of the boy floating before them. It was Syaoran, there was no doubt about it, looking rather worse for wear, and injured, judging from the red stains all over his otherwise white clothes. The clear-cut slash right across the boy's chest made the Canadian wonder in dismay what Syaoran went through before all this.

Kurogane and Fai, on the other hand, didn't waste any time to find out.

In an instant, Fai sat up, wearing the fiercest glare the Canadian had ever seen on him, and raised his good arm. Canada didn't even see the shots of magic (really?) being fired at Britain; only the sound of tiny explosions gave any indication that it ever happened. Fai never relented on his assault even as the dust clouds obscured his enemy.

When the blasts stopped at last, the magician looked more exhausted than ever, beads of sweat forming on his face. Canada stared at him, worry and wonder mixed in his purple eyes. "Fai…"

"_TENMA-KU-RYÛ-SEN!_"

Canada turned around just in time to see a magnificent bolt of energy taking the form of a dragon's head aimed straight in Britain's direction, the resultant explosion rupturing the very ground. Amidst coughs and teary eyes from the second wave of dust clouds, the Canadian made out the hazy figure of France carrying British Empire out of harm's way.

The Empire kept his head bowed even as the Frenchman laid him down with care beside the Canadian. France immediately began to check both of them for any extensive injuries, leaving Canada to ask, "Are you okay, Empire? You're not badly hurt, are you?" The soul fragment didn't utter a reply, retaining his silence.

More explosions resounded as Fai stepped up to exchange attack spells with Britain while Kurogane suddenly came into view, already crossing swords with Britannia. Canada was stunned at the burly man's reappearance. Kurogane was left paralyzed on the ground just moments before and now he was slashing away at the pirate's attacks as if it never happened.

These aren't your everyday humans for sure.

He turned back to the silent Empire with a lopsided smile. "It's a good thing France got you out of there in time, eh?"

Morose green eyes looked back at him. "…Why?" Then, turning to the Frenchman, "Why did you save me?"

"Because you are a fool, mon cher," France replied with a smile.

British Empire narrowed his eyes at that. "_You're_ the fool, not me. That isn't even a relevant answer to my question."

France just smiled at him again and, before anyone could protest, placed a gentle kiss on the Empire's forehead. "You do not understand, and that makes you the fool."

Canada found himself amazed at how fast British Empire suddenly flushed red in the face and muttered obscenities rather inarticulately. He thought he heard the words "not in public" and "perverted bastard" though he wasn't quite sure.

Then the sound of a high-pitched blast ricocheting off a plane surface suddenly became too close for comfort. Everyone looked back to the fight ensuing just nearby, even Empire stopped in his vulgar ranting, to find a near transparent barrier covering the three of them with Fai struggling to stand in front.

Canada felt a sense of déjà-vu when Britain stood before them with dust clouds dispersing on his feet, the black cloak around him bellowing softly. Malevolent green eyes glinted at them. "You look about ready to drop dead there." He outstretched a hand. "Let me help you with that."

Everything suddenly seemed to go in slow-mo as a beam hit Fai head on, forcing the magician to fall back and hit the barrier with a backbreaking thud. Cracks splintered across the barrier until another blast shot straight through and shattered it. That same blast struck Canada right at the chest, causing him to hurdle back down to the rocky floor headfirst.

The nation never felt so much pain since the Second World War, and he realized, with a hoarse coughing of blood, that it really, really, _really_ hurt. Amidst the excruciating pain, he vaguely witnessed France now facing Britain with nothing more than the dagger he still had with him; his rapier had been lost in that last explosion.

…Huh.

It is funny how in what you think as the last moments of your life, that the most extraordinary things can happen. Most say they see their lives flash before their eyes. Some claim to have an out-of-body experience wherein they actually see everything, even their own body, from a third person's point of view. Others state that they find themselves in a place filled with light and silence. In Canada's case, however, it was a little different.

From where he laid on the ground, he saw a boy with tousled brown hair and a worn-out cloak just standing there, watching. Canada was sure that he was seeing things for the boy looked strikingly similar to Syaoran. But that couldn't be Syaoran, he was right there floating in midair and unconscious to boot. How could he be in two places at once? He refused to acknowledge that the sadness in the cloaked Syaoran's eyes looked so real.

He found himself hearing Syaoran's voice from the mysterious cloaked boy, soft and distant yet as clear as day. He remained silent as that voice rebuked Britain's next words.

"No longer holding back, are we?" Britain smirked as he sent more shots of magic against the Frenchman who batted them away with an effort. "I've been itching to kick you back to the ground again anyway."

"_You're lying_," the cloaked Syaoran went. "_You never wanted to fight against your own comrades_."

France tried to make a strike on Britain, but the other merely stepped out of the way. "You must be rather desperate to fight me like this." A quick sidestep and he was behind the nation before France realized it, and the poor nation went down as Britain swept his feet out from under him. Britain's smirk widened. "Desperate and stupid."

"_You're more desperate than any of them_," the cloaked Syaoran returned.

A battle cry resounded and then Kurogane was there, ready to strike Britain with all he had. He had slipped away from Britannia somehow and the pirate cried out, "_Brit'n!_"

Britain merely snorted and raised his glowing hand just as Kurogane struck. There was a blinding flash of light and before anyone knew it, Kurogane was back on the crushed ground, pulverized pieces of rock surrounding him. It's as if the very ground broke when he fell back, the various red trails of blood all over him a hint of the extent of the power. The poor man didn't look like he was going to get up after that attack.

"_What~?_" Britain drawled as he walked over to the fallen Kurogane, the smug grin on his face widening, "Is that all you're capable of?" He stomped at the ninja's vulnerable chest, making him cringe at the blow. "I expected a better fight from you lot."

"_No,_" the other Syaoran frowned, _"you wanted them to stop you._"

Britain glanced back and found France scowling at him even as he laid on the ground. "What's with the long face?" He crossed the distance until he crouched down to look at vehement blue eyes. "Don't bother looking tough now," he grunted, "You're failing miserably." He gripped unto the Frenchman's blonde locks tightly. "I bet you're just biting back the tears."

"_You're struggling not to break down yourself_," the cloaked Syaoran said with a shake of his head.

"Surely, you would realize by now that," Britain continued as if he never heard any of the cloaked Syaoran's words, "even with your combined power, you cannot possibly defeat me." Britain let go of the Frenchman's hair with a harsh shove and stepped back, leaving Britannia to kick the fallen ones out of the way. The edges of his cloak bellowed behind him as Britain walked away, the coldness in his tone never gone from his voice. "There is no way for you to win."

"_There _is_ still a way to put an end to all this_."

Determined brown eyes stared at surprised purple ones, and Canada quickly sat up with a coughing fit. He looked again amidst the tears in his eyes, but the cloaked Syaoran was already gone, as if he had never been there. However, the Canadian was sure he said those last words to him. The nation stared on without really seeing anything as he whispered, "Wha… what just…?"

"Lie still!" British Empire's frantic voice cried, and before he knew it, forceful hands pushed him to lie back on the ground.

Canada blinked several times, his head spinning from the sudden movement, until his eyes focused on the worried green eyes overhead and saw the image of England's concerned scowl. "E-England…?" the Canadian muttered, feeling his head.

At that, the Empire's face hardened. "… Well, you woke up quickly enough. Just rest for the time being, no need to strain yourself now." He looked away to watch the unfolding scene (Britain and Britannia were exchanging smirks that sent goose bumps up one's arms), as he added in a whisper, "And don't call me by that name. I neither deserve that title nor can I be considered a whole nation. I'm merely a fragment of England's soul, don't forget."

The Canadian blinked at the Empire's cryptic words when he realized where Britain was walking to now. He already got up and moving before British Empire could stop him. "Wait, Canada! Stop!"

But Canada didn't listen and only quickened his pace until he stopped between Britain and the floating Syaoran, raising his arms on either side. He felt a million butterflies in his stomach as Britain's green eyes threatened to bore holes right through him. "And may I ask what are you doing?"

His heart was racing as he sputtered, "I-I'm not… l-letting you get… a-any further, B-B-Britain."

Those green eyes narrowed at him and the sight nearly made him wet himself, but his legs remained firm. With a colder tone, Britain said, "Move aside."

Canada shook his head vigorously. A thick brow twitched and Britain shouted, "I said move!"

"No, I won't!" the Canadian shouted back. Emotional tears began to form as the nation continued to bellow, "Britain, all this time you've been doing your own business without a care to what anybody else says, threatening us not to get in your way when—"

"Force is the best way to make you fools listen," Britain cut in dryly.

"We could've listened to you if you just _told_ us!" Canada cried, frustration seeping. "You could've told us, and we would've worked something out and avoided this whole mess!" He paused to catch his breath, not breaking eye contact from the now silent Britain. The soul fragment wasn't the only quiet one; everyone else stared at the usually timid Canada, gawking at his bravery (and probably rashness too).

The Canadian tried a small smile. "Personally, I hold great respect for England, even loved him as a brother back when I was a colony." He was caught in the moment as he added, "He won't really admit it in his face, but America loved him as a brother too—"

"That's a lie."

"Wha…?" Canada blinked at the other's bright green eyes. He stared when he realized that those same eyes were beginning to grow teary.

"That's a damn lie," Britain said in a livid tone, his voice growing thicker. "If America had truly loved him as a brother, then why did he go through with that damn revolution? Explain that to me!" His voice grew louder and louder until he shouted, "Why did he intentionally break England's heart?"

Canada winced slightly. He probably shouldn't have said that, but what's done is done. He shook his head to brace himself. "I know I'm not the right person to say that, but I swear to you I'm not lying. I'm telling you the truth."

But Britain had already gone too deep for the Canadian's words to reach him anymore. The cloaked figure glared daggers at him again as he barked, "You dare speak to me in that manner! You have no right to talk such things!"

"We all have a right, Britain," Canada returned with a sad smile, borrowing his brother's words, "even nations like us. We inherited them from our own people and you can't change that. We have the right to defend our lives, our freedom, our own pursuit of happiness…"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, _shut up!_"

Britain lunged at Canada at the last words, his glowing hand outstretched like talons, and Canada just stared, knowing he wasn't fast enough to avoid the attack and—

"_Contra pugnent!_"

There was a flash and the clear-cut sound of Britain's attack being deflected. Canada gaped at this point. A womanly figure enveloped in elegant armor and light just appeared right in front of him, and stood its ground as it blocked Britain's attack with its shield. Britain stared, too stunned to properly glare. "W-What on…?"

He wasn't given a chance to finish as the figure counterattacked and struck Britain with its short sword. Britain dodged it, but still suffered from a gouge on his right arm. He wasn't given time to recover either as another figure in armor and light appeared behind him, and aimed for his head. It's as if, with every dodge Britain tried against an armored figure, another seemed to appear from out of nowhere and try him again. The poor soul fragment was already sporting more and more cuts, barely able to defend himself.

"Brit'n!" Britannia cried out and tried to help Britain, but more of the armored figures came and started attacking the pirate as well.

Canada stared at the armored beings now overwhelming the soul fragments, their near barbaric methods affective against Britain and the pirate. Wait, barbaric…? Could they be… "V-Valkyries…?" The Canadian was stunned by his own crazy assumption. That's just impossible, how could—

Another figure, this time clad in slightly tattered yet simple clothing and a sailor hat on his head, stepped into the clearing, his dark eyes sharp and determined. A short sword shimmered from where his hand held it, and Norway narrowed his eyes. "The book."

"W-What?" Canada stuttered, confused. The Norwegian just appeared out of the fog and already he wasn't making any sense. How could he be talking about some book at a time like this? Unless, he meant…

Britain finally removed himself from the horde of surrounding valkyries with an all-around blast, and he gritted his teeth at the Nordic nation. "So you survived my illusions' assault, I see. Did you conjure your own illusions in retaliation?"

Norway snorted, and a valkyrie came up to Britain with another strike. "_They_ aren't illusions." He walked further into the clearing as he continued, "Now, where is the book?"

"We ain' tellin' ya nothin'!" Britannia barked even as he tried to strike back at a valkyrie. The valkyrie parried the attack and easily struck him on the leg for his effort.

The Norwegian didn't bother looking at the pirate as he muttered, "I wasn't talking to you." As he walked, he glanced at British Empire who sat by the sidelines all the while. The Empire stilled as the Nordic nation eyed him for a few more seconds. There was tension between the two of them until the nation looked front again and said, "Let me ask again: where is the book?"

Britain felled the last valkyrie nearest to him and glared at the advancing nation. "Even if you have obtained the book, what will you do with it? You don't know the true power behind the book, you couldn't possibly—"

"I do know that the book is the cause of all this chaos," Norway interrupted curtly, glaring back at the soul fragment. "That's why, once I have the book, I'll destroy it and put an end to this nonsense."

From where Canada stood, he saw British Empire staring at the Norwegian, his fists beginning to tremble. "D-Destroy the book…? But then…" He pursed his lips before he could continue. Britain was also glancing at the Empire, but with an expression in his eyes that the Canadian didn't recognize. Was it to silence him? Or was it just sympathy?

Britain returned to look at Norway, the confident smirk now back in place. "Well then, that just won't do." He took a step forward and positioned himself, his hands placed as if they were holding an invisible weapon.

The Canadian knew it wasn't a mere bluff for the surrounding valkyries suddenly tensed, reacting to something. Norway merely nodded them off, and the valkyries vanished, leaving the two to their own battle. The Norwegian frowned as he readied his sword. "We don't have to fight like this, Britain. Come now, be serious before you—"

Britain lunged at him before the Norwegian could continue, barely blocking the attack in time. Norway gritted his teeth as a slick trail of blood trickled down the side of his face. Britain's smirk merely widened. "Oh, I am being serious, Norway."

Canada frowned as the two went at it again, already growing tired of all the fighting. The night's not even over yet, but he already felt like he's been in the middle of a war that's gone on for many years. It's been brutal, and he's had enough of it.

Then, a hand clasped his shoulder from behind, and Canada let out a yelp. He turned, expecting France or even Britannia, but only gawked when he recognized the mess of brown hair and determined brown eyes. "S-Syaoran?"

Syaoran tried a smile even as he placed a hand over the injury on his chest. He opened his mouth to say something until he cringed and struggled to remain standing, the bloodstains on his otherwise white clothes spreading. Panicking, the Canadian tried to look over the extent of his injuries. His purple eyes widened at the damage: cuts and bruises were speckled all over the boy's body, the biggest and deepest gash running straight across his chest. And it was still bleeding. How could the boy endure all this and still try to smile?

When the boy tried to stand back up, the nation tried to stop him, scolding, "Don't, Syaoran! You need to rest. Your injuries haven't—"

"Canada-san."

Canada paused, feeling the blood rush down his face. "Syaoran, you…"

Syaoran placed a bloodied hand on the Canadian's trembling one. "Britain-san… he still has the book, doesn't he?"

What? Canada blanked for a moment when he remembered the moment Britain took the book away from England not too long ago. "T-That's right!" he exclaimed in realization. He zipped his head back to where Norway and Britain were still exchanging blows. "Norway—I mean, Norge's fighting Britain right now. I'm sure he can handle him, and—"

"No, he can't," Syaoran breathed, struggling against shaking knees to stand back up. "Not alone."

"But what can you do in your state?" Canada snapped, fretting for the boy. "You're still bleeding, and you barely have any strength left! You're in no condition to fight Britain. _You'll just die!_"

That was when his brown eyes smiled at his tearful face. "I won't die. I still have a promise to keep, and I don't want to break it." And, before Canada could say anything more, he dashed off.

At that moment, Norway struggled to deflect Britain's invisible weapon. He was beginning to breathe heavily, yet Britain still looked refreshed and ready to strike again. He didn't think that he would be fighting against an invisible weapon, much less predict that Britain would even conjure one. He struggled again as Britain lunged for another attack.

"What's wrong, Norway?" Britain sneered. "Have you finally realized your own naïveté?"

Even in his predicament, Norway snorted. "Hardly." Rather, he was reassessing his situation. Even though his injuries were healed, his strength remained tapped and exhausted. He realized that he couldn't match up to Britain's skills, not in his weakened state, not against that invisible weapon. He needed a distraction. Even if it were only for a split second—

"Britain-san!"

At that, both stopped in their tracks, eyes widening at the figure approaching them. It was Syaoran, but wasn't he unconscious only moments ago? Norway particularly eyed at the dagger in the boy's hand. That's France's main gauche, and it's emanating a powerful, divine aura. Maybe…

"You!" Britain all but screeched, and giving his full attention to the boy. "But how could you—"

Norway saw his chance. Invoking an unincated spell, he struck at Britain's blind spot with the pommel of his sword. Upon impact, sparks flew all throughout Britain's body, and most importantly, a certain book fell out of Britain's cloak. Norway's eyes met Syaoran's own, and both nodded at one another.

Syaoran let out a battle cry, preparing to throw the dagger at the book hurtling across the air, just as Norway cried out his incantation,

"Κενότητοζ άστράπσατω δέ τεμέω!"

Bright green eyes grew wide as Britain coughed his last words. "No… don't…!"

"_ΔΙΟΣ ΤΥΚΟΣ!" _

A great bolt of lightning struck, shaking the earth underneath them. The light that came with the strike enveloped almost everything in white, but Canada still saw it: the dagger had hit its mark straight through, and now Britain's very image began to dissolve into nothing. He wasn't sure – it could've been a trick of the light – but he thought he saw Britain smiling amidst the tears…

Then, he wasn't so sure it was a mere of trick of the light when another image appeared before him. It was Syaoran, but not the Syaoran who just destroyed the book. No, it was the other one that he envisioned earlier, the one who rebuked Britain's words. It was the cloaked Syaoran. And he was smiling.

"_Thank you_," he said even as he began to disappear in a sea of white. "_Thank you for taking care of everyone…_"

* * *

**Special Notes**:

This chapter's title – It comes from one of Paulo Coelho's famous quotes: "If you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it."

Tenma-ku-ryû-sen – _Divine Magic: Sky Dragon Flash _in English, according to _DelRey_. This is one of Kurogane's stronger attacks, surely, and if you want to see just how big and powerful the attack really is, I suggest checking out the first two pages of Chapitre 62 of the TRC manga :3

Satyagrasha – It's a non-violence act to resist, a force born of truth and/or love. Not meant to inflict pain to the "enemy", it's also the ability to cling to the truth non-violently no matter the cruelty of the kind of pressures against them. Introduced by Gandhi, the people of India used this method to become independent from the British Empire – the same method Canada unconsciously used on Great Britain just now too.

Canada's words – The dialogue wherein he confronts Britain is actually in reference to the American Declaration of Independence, or to be more specific, Thomas Jefferson's draft of it. (The obvious part is the whole "inherent and inalienable rights of life, freedom and pursuit of happiness" deal. The not-so-obvious part is that "brotherly love" deal – that part didn't survive the revisions of the Declaration of Independence, you see.) The statements have been edited to fit into the flow of the fic, so I apologize to those offended for my use of a historical text in such a way.

Evocatio Valcyriarum, contubernalia gladiaria! Contra pugnent! – _I summon the Valkyries! Sword-wielding sisters in arms! Intercept and attack!_ in Latin, taken again from Delrey's translation. This is the full spell Norge used. If you noticed, there's that valkyrie-reference within the spell and, while Negima has them as non-generic wind spirits, Norge really does summon the real beings. He's just awesome like that, oh yeah.

Κενότητοζ άστράπσατω δέ τεμέω! ΔΙΟΣ ΤΥΚΟΣ! – _Come forth, o Lightning from the Void, and cut down my enemies. AXE OF LIGHTNING!_ This is DelRey's translation of the Greek spell, but copying the Greek characters was to the best of my ability (it's hard finding the exact letters just by looking at them from the manga!). This spell seems to require an unincanted _sagitta magica_ that would be done in contact with the target before it can be properly manifested. (On a side note, if there are such things as Greek spells, then I'm betting Greece can use spells too =3=)

* * *

**A/N**: FrUK, the fighting's finally over =faints=

My exams just officially finished the other day, so I'm celebrating with an extra long chapter! Cheers~!

_This chapter's BGMs (two of them because one just isn't enough x)_ – Theme: Sister Thea Marie Yandere Instantaneous Pressure [Romaheta OST] + Erza no Theme [Fairy Tail OST 1]


	10. Thoughts

**Afterword on Independence**

* * *

England's room was large but with just the necessary furnishings laid out: a wooden closet, a full-body mirror, a bed big enough for three people and a bedside table. There was even a grandfather clock next to the closet. Sleeping on the mattress was England, his soul whole again but still unconscious. France, Syaoran, Fai, Kurogane, and that other nation were in the room as well, but Norway didn't heed them any attention.

He stood by the window, conversing with one of England's faeries who went to check up on the Brit. "England is out danger but hasn't woken up yet," he told the sprite. "Did it affect the country in any way while the incident took place?"

The faerie shook its head. "The humans did not react to it, but the earth, trees and some animals grew quiet when the incident occurred. It is not something to worry about, though. It seems that most of the damage was absorbed by the fog two nights ago."

Norway nodded before looking out the window. "And what about the garden?"

At that, the sprite's glow brightened. "We have already leveled out the areas where the earth cracked and filled up the craters. We even placed new rose bushes in some parts of the garden."

The nation showed a small smile. "England will be happy once he wakes up."

"Yes, we all hope so too…"

"I still don't believe that you're all nations. I mean, how can some big mass of land be a person?"

"Actually, Kuro-pii, they're personifications of their respective nations."

"And you! You've known about their true identities this whole time!"

"Okay, you got me there. But you see, Kuro-sama, it was supposed to be a secret to the humans here too. If it were to leak out that these many important figures had assembled in one place, who knows what kind of trouble might ensue!"

Norway looked back inside the room and saw the burly man giving the Frenchman a dark glance. He sighed, "So noisy…"

"England's new friends are rather lively," the faerie mused with a curled smile, "are they not?"

The Nordic nation frowned. "They have too much energy."

"Perhaps," the sprite muttered before turning to the other people seated on either side of the sleeping England. "Oh, it seems that they are having quite the interesting conversation."

Norway looked to where the faerie pointed to and found himself unwittingly fascinated at their little chat.

The other nation looked down as he stuttered, "I-I mean, y-you don't look at all surprised to know that we're actually nations and everything…"

At that, Syaoran gave the other a small smile. "I was informed in the middle of the incident about it, so…"

"R-Really? Who told you?"

"Um, well…" Now everyone was listening to the conversation, and Norway imagined all the attention made the poor boy more conscious of himself. "You see, uh…"

Then, in a burst of energy, Mokona pointed at France, exclaiming, "He did it, officer! He's the perpetrator!"

"_H-Huh?_" France looked horrified at the accusation. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, mon ami. I didn't—"

But Kurogane wasn't listening. "So you can tell the kid about it, but not to the rest of us?"

"Non, non! You've gotten it all wrong! I wasn't the one who—"

"That's low," Norway muttered, "even for you, France."

"Not you too, Norvège!"

"Bloody hell, would you stop all that racket? This is _my house_, for Christ's sake!"

Everyone in the room hushed and stared at England as he sat up and ruffled his already messy hair. He was grumbling to himself until the Brit finally spotted France among the crowd. In his grumpy mood and with those thick eyebrows, that withered glare was sharp enough to pierce through metal. "And what in the world are _you_ doing in my room?"

"Oh, we were just going to make some tea for everyone!" Fai interjected, pushing both France and Kurogane out of the room with one hand and carrying the still snoozing Mokona in the other. That sounded like a good excuse to leave.

Norway made way for the door as well, and the faerie rested on his shoulder, pondering, "So what kind of tea should we serve?"

The nation paused by the doorframe. That's right… He turned back to face the exhausted-looking Brit and asked, "What kind of tea would you like?"

"Chamomile would be lovely, thank you," England sighed as he squeezed the space between his eyes. Norway nodded and gently closed the door behind him, walking to where the others went.

When he arrived at the kitchen, Kurogane was already glaring at him with France looking about ready to break down and Fai fighting back his giggles. The white creature in his arms didn't hold back, however, and already began to snicker. The Frenchman quickly approached him and, holding the Norwegian by the shoulders, begged, "Please, Norvège! You must convince monsieur Kurogane that I didn't do it! Tell him I didn't!"

"Didn't do what exactly?" Norway raised a brow. He had done many things that he should be accounted for, being a pervert for instance…

"That I didn't tell Syaoran about us nations!" France just about screamed. Behind him, Kurogane gave them both a dark glare.

"Say that he did it just to see how he reacts," the sprite whispered into his ear. The Nordic nation spared it a quick glance, seeing its impish grin. England's creatures really are naughty.

Norway looked at the burly man straight in the eye and said, "France wasn't the one who told Syaoran about us nations." Seeing the man's unimpressed frown, he continued, "It isn't even a detail worth bothering with. The important thing is that now you all know, and that's that."

At that, Kurogane frowned deeper, his shoulders drooping. Fai went and poked him on the cheek, teasing, "Looks like you lost this argument, Kuro-rin~"

"You just lost~ You just lost~" Mokona went in sing-song, "You just lost, KU-RO-GA-N—"

"_Shaddup!_"

France, meanwhile, had the absurd idea of hugging the Norwegian in glee. "Oh, merci, merci, merci beaucoup!" he purred, rubbing their cheeks together. "I'm so happy I could just—"

"Don't even go there," Norway deadpanned, giving the Frenchman's wandering hand a death grip. "Besides," he continued as he let go of the hand, leaving the other nation to tend to his aching appendage, "weren't we supposed to make tea?"

"Yes, that's right~" Fai smiled widely and began to put hot water in the kettle. "Kuro-pyu, can you get the tea? If I still remember it right, it should be in one of the cupboards!"

Kurogane snorted as he looked around the kitchen. "What the hell's a cupboard?"

Mokona jumped out of Fai's hands to land atop Kurogane's head and point at the said cupboard. "It's over here!"

"You mean this?" The man grabbed for the handles, but when he tried to slide it open, it wouldn't budge. "Ngh! It's stuck!"

"You need to pull it—" SNAP! "—gently…" Norway sighed as the two, or rather, Kurogane began to fuss about the broken cupboard door while Mokona just laughed it off. Honestly…

"Norvège."

The Norwegian glanced at France, who had his brows furrowed as if in thought. He didn't usually look this serious. "What is it?"

"Who do you think told Syaoran about us nations?"

The Nordic nation raised a brow. "I thought I said it isn't something to—"

"Don't you find it strange or even the least bit suspicious?" France countered, making the Norwegian pause.

Still resting on his shoulder, the faerie smirked, "Curiosity affects us all, even great nations like you; you cannot deny it." Norway looked at the sprite out of the corner of his eye, and frowned. Well, he had been wondering about it for a while now…

France cradled his stubbled chin in thought. "Among their group, Fai was the only one who found out about us. He told me himself that he didn't want to put to worry the poor boy about it. It wasn't Canada or me, and I'm sure you didn't tell him either, Norvège."

"So that only leaves England," the Norwegian frowned.

"But he was unconscious since the incident—"

"No, he wasn't. Not completely, at least. " When he saw the Frenchman's surprised blue eyes, he explained, "Remember that his soul was split into four pieces. Anyone of them could have told Syaoran about us."

"The problem is," the Frenchman pointed out, "Britannia and Britain were busy fighting us at the time of the incident. Even British Empire had been by our side the whole time. None of them had the chance to tell him."

"What about the fourth soul fragment?" the faerie queried.

"The fourth…?" Norway echoed.

"Non, non," the French nation opposed. "It couldn't have been him. One fragment of England's soul had remained in his body during the incident. If he had been inside of England the whole time, how could he…?"

"Once again, France," the sprite shook its tiny head, "you underestimate the power of true magic."

Norway said with a firm voice, "The fourth fragment could have done other means to communicate, even while inside England." Like how he appeared to him when the Iceland-illusion gave him his sword. "He also goes by the name Arthur, by the way."

The Frenchman merely frowned at him, unconvinced. "Well, whoever it is, I just hope there won't be any more surprises. My poor heart may not take much more of them~"

"We finally agree on something," Norway nodded.

"The tea's ready~!" Fai proclaimed, the newly prepared tea on the teapot along with the rest of the tea set placed atop a tray with the scent of chamomile already permeating the air.

France was already chirping as if their conversation never took place. "Then, let's return to cher Angleterre's room! Tout de suite!"

"Tooth sweet!" Mokona echoed somewhat wrongly, and just like that, they headed back to England's room.

The faerie on his shoulder huffed, crossing its arms and legs. "Good grief! The nerve of that Frenchman! Talking all high and mighty as if he knows everything… Ha!"

"No, he doesn't know everything," Norway muttered to the sprite as he carried the tray. "Don't worry, you'll get your chance…"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck!_"

Norway blinked as the two blondes rushed to England's room with Fai pulling on Kurogane's arm, the poor man whining the whole way. "Oi, let go me! Let go, _damn it_!"

"Ssh!" France hushed the loud man just as Kurogane fell to the floor mere inches to the door.

"Oh God, I hate this day! _Damn it! Damn that idiot!_"

Fai pressed an ear against the wood of the door just as France tried to peek through the keyhole. With blond man atop the Frenchman, the poor burly man at the bottom of them both and the white creature atop of everyone, Norway rather thought they all looked utterly ridiculous.

"What do you think is happening inside?" Fai asked with a soft voice.

France showed a wide grin that definitely did not bode well. "England found out that today's July 4th."

Kurogane raised a brow. "Why? What's so special about—?"

"It's because a certain _prat_ went on about becoming independent and now, he's celebrating his bloody victory over me!" England just about whined from inside the room.

Huh. "Is that why you planted the rose bushes?" Norway asked the faerie. "To try to cheer him up?" On his shoulder, the sprite gave a shy nod.

"I still don't get what's so special about today," Kurogane grunted.

On top of the man, France squirmed a little. "Well, it's a long story, but to cut it short: cher Alfred – you must remember him, non? – used to be brothers with Angleterre once. But then, he grew up fast and wanted to become his own man. Gain independence, as it's called. And the rest, as they, is history."

"Alfred is a nation who goes by America, by the way," Norway added, and before the burly man could react, he noted, "There are many more people who look like regular humans but are actually personifications of their own countries. Be glad that you're no longer one of the oblivious ones."

Kurogane still turned to glare at him, but otherwise didn't say anything about it. Instead, he muttered, "Okay, fine. But going on your own doesn't—"

"But you don't point muskets at one another just to prove a damn point!" England burst out, and even the door couldn't muffle the broken-heartedness in that harsh voice.

Norway frowned. He truly took America's independence quite badly.

Then, Syaoran's firm voice echoed, "I don't know all of the details, but I think that it needed to be done to show Alfred—I mean, America-san's conviction of the matter."

"Do you mean his damned conviction to void his brotherhood with—?"

"I mean his determination to have a better future for the people of his country," Syaoran interrupted smoothly. France flinched, and even Norway jumped slightly. It felt like there was some kind of power in his words… a power they don't see so often in their own people…

The faerie smiled softly. "There is truth in the boy's words."

Norway felt at awe for a moment until he saw the others by the door forcing their way to peer through the keyhole as well.

"Mokona wants to take a peek too!"

"S-Stop pushing, mes ami!"

"Come on, France! You can't just have the keyhole all to yourself!"

"D-don't just put your knee on my head, you bastard!"

Norway sighed again as the group looked more idiotic than mere moments ago. Really, it's a wonder how England and Syaoran couldn't hear them with all the noise they were making. On his shoulder, the faerie showed a rare warm smile. "That boy is very special, managing to ease England like that. Even we fae cannot achieve what the boy just did."

He wondered about that, but then again, it isn't wise to just oppose a magical creature's words. "Indeed."

"Tell me," the sprite went on, catching the Norwegian's attention again, "what is the boy's name?"

"Syaoran."

At that, the sprite's smile widened into a toothy smirk. "Well now, that is quite the name."

Norway raised a brow at the faerie's strange words. However, before he could ask, France purred, "_Ohohohon~_ Cher Angleterre has a soft side, after all!"

"Hmph! He should've hit him harder though."

"Mokona can't wait to hear what's going to happen next!"

"Oh, they will see what will happen next," the faerie sneered, and Norway turned to the sprite with a perplexed face. What?

All of a sudden, the door was opened to let the group of eavesdroppers fall on top of themselves and form a pile with Kurogane being at the very bottom of them all. Only Mokona, who was at the top of the pile, remained unharmed from the fall. Norway pitied Kurogane for a moment – he was unfortunate enough to be at the very bottom of them all – before stepping into the room and saying, "The tea's ready."

Sandwiched between Fai and Kurogane, France whined, "That was very cruel of you, Norvège—"

Norway's brow twitched. _What?_

"—opening the door like that while we were—"

"You were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

The Frenchman let out a sound between a yelp and a squeak as England went out of bed, and approached the pile with glinting green eyes and a smile far more wicked than even that of Britain. There was a mixture of shock, surprise, expectation and outright fear among the pile when the Brit cracked his knuckles. "I should teach all of you a lesson for your impertinence."

"Non, non, p-parley! _Parley_!"

Norway merely watched on with a warm cup of tea at hand, as France became under the mercy of a furious England (again). This was going to be a long morning.

* * *

**Special notes:**

Tout de suite – _right now_ in French, according to Google Translate, but my brother agrees with me that it seems more like _quickly _(ah, the intoxications of _Madeline_ |D); that's also why Mokona sort of mispronounced it to tooth sweet~

Parley – a discussion or conference, especially one between enemies over terms of a truce or other matters (taken from, of all things, the APH SMACKDOWN over on dA; go on, check it out xD)

* * *

**A/N:** Welcome back, our favorite potty-mouthed *cough!*_sadistic_*cough!* gentleman 8D

Oh yeah, I also put up Canada's-POV version of this chapter over in lj. Just follow the link on my profile~


	11. Birthday

**Afterword on Independence**

* * *

At last, it was the day that everyone's been waiting for: America's birthday! All the Americans have been preparing for the celebration in their own way – cooking all-American dishes, organizing get-togethers with friends and family, and even buying their own fireworks. While others were getting ready just weeks before the special day, America had already planned it out since the year began.

The venue was picked and even reserved five months ahead of time. As for the food, they were going to be served buffet-style, lined in those extra-long tables. Drinks would be served all night long; there'd even be a bar on the side with a good bartender that America himself was acquainted to. He already sent the invitations about a month in advance, so they'd have no real excuse not to come. Lastly, he personally assigned the security staff to keep an eye out for any mishap or the occasional gatecrasher.

Like Russia.

Thankfully, there was no sign of the Russian so far and everyone looked like they were having the time of their lives. It was natural for the American to be the gracious host – it was his party, after all – and after a round of applause from his guests, he couldn't help but grin all the more. This was going to be an awesome-tastic birthday!

As he left Tony to take care of the lights and sounds, America went around the venue to have a chat with some of his guests. He waved at Japan, who was with Germany, Italy and even Romano, and greeted, "Hey, you guys! What'd you think of the party so far? Awesome, right?"

Japan smiled at him as he nodded. "It's much livelier than the previous year, America-san."

Beside him, Germany crossed his arms. "You organized this party well. I wish you could put as much seriousness in our meetings, though."

"What are you talking about, Germany?" America patted the German on the shoulder, laughing. "I'm always a hundred percent serious in our meetings!" Like with his idea of making a giant sunshade to battle global warming, he was serious about that too!

"America, America," Italy said over and over until the American looked at him. When he did, the Italian showed him a box neatly in red and white gift wrapping with a star-speckled blue ribbon neatly wrapped around it. "Buon compleanno! Fratellohelped pick out your present while Germania helped me with the wrapping~"

"Don't tell him that, you idiot!" Romano snapped as the German sighed softly.

America gave them all a smile as he accepted his gift. "Thanks a lot, you guys!" Then, he looked expectantly at Japan.

At that, the Japanese nation said, "When you are free, we can play the video game that I told about."

"You mean that RPG game with those people stuck in a house and getting chased by a scary alien? That one?"

Japan nodded, his smile widening slightly.

"_Sweet!_" America hooted, doing a fist-pump. "Then how about we play it now?"

Japan just smiled, but Germany reminded him, "The birthday celebrant cannot just leave in the middle of his own birthday."

Said nation-celebrant deflated, his shoulders drooping. "Oh, right…" He had been itching to play that gametoo…

"Fucking bastard," Romano growled, but he wasn't looking at America; he wasn't even paying attention to their conversation anymore. Rather, he was looking at a certain Spaniard talking to France, Prussia and another group with a big smile on his face. Huh, America wondered where he had seen that group before.

Germany narrowed his eyes at the group. "Hold on, they aren't nations…"

"Hey look, Giappone!" Italy pointed at the group enthusiastically. "Don't they look like from one of your fumetti?"

"They do share a striking resemblance…" Japan muttered, cradling his chin.

"Well, there's only one way to find out!" With that, America approached the group and, waving his arm at them, called out, "Hey~!"

The boy with brown hair and eyes looked at him first, followed by the blue-eyed blond-haired man who smiled at him and the burly black-haired man with red eyes. The rabbit wearing a blue earring waved back at him. "Long time no see~!"

Wait a sec – a talking rabbit with an earring…? Oh yeah! "Mokona!" America exclaimed at the white creature in recognition. He looked around the group giving him big smiles, and he couldn't help but grin along. "You're all actually here! I didn't know you were even around town."

"We heard from France-san that today's your birthday," the blond-haired man—Fai replied, then smiled. "And I admit – you're having a grand party here, America-san."

"Thank you!"

"_Fucking Spagna_…"

America turned and already found Romano looking steadily at the smiling Spain, his fists trembling. The rest of the Axis was right behind him with Germany looking at Syaoran's group with focused blue eyes. "I'm sorry, but how did you find out about France and America?"

"Oh, it's not just France-san and America-san~" Fai pointed out, "We know all about your real identities as nations!"

Germany frowned at that, but Prussia suddenly pressed his beer mug to his brother's cheek, jeering, "Aw come on, West! You need to relax~ It's obvious that my awesomeness is just too awesome to stay secret for long!"

Italy approached the boy and, holding both of his shoulders, greeted, "Ciao, my name's Italy and he's Germany! What's yours~?"

When the boy just stared at the Italian, Fai patted the boy on the head and said, "This young man's name here is Syaoran. I'm Fai, and the one with the scary face is Kuro-ron."

"It's Kurogane!" the other snapped.

As Fai merely laughed, the rabbit jumped atop Italy's head and cried, "Don't forget about Mokona!"

Seeing the talking creature, Germany frowned even more. "A-A talking rabbit?"

"Mokona isn't a rabbit!" Mokona returned. "Mokona's Mokona!"

"I see. Mokona, is it?" Japan muttered, showing a small smile.

"That's right!" When the rabbit jumped towards the Japanese nation, he easily caught it with outstretched hands. "And what's your name?"

"Oh right, my name. Well, my human name is Honda, Kiku but my country name is Japan."

"_Eeeeehh—?_"

America blinked at Kurogane's surprised face, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. He pointed a trembling finger at the Japanese nation, muttering, "Y-You're… _You're…_"

"Oh~" Fai smiled. "If I remember right, didn't Kuro-tan say that he came from the country of Japan~?"

Chaos suddenly burst, and the nation-celebrant laughed at the spectacle. This was the best birthday ever!

"America-san," Syaoran called for his attention, and the American looked at the boy's brown eyes. "I'm sorry for suddenly showing up without telling you beforehand."

"Nah, it's okay," America brushed it off. "I like surprises! I'm just wondering though; how'd you get past the guards at the entrance? Weren't you asked for verification or something?" This particular party was invitation only, after all, so if this big group actually slipped past his tight security…

"Ah!" Syaoran fumbled through his pocket before showing him a letter. "England-san wrote a letter of permission for us to come in his place."

America looked through the letter, and recognized the Brit's cursive handwriting and even his very own seal beside his signature at the bottom. Yup, this was definitely a letter from England. Which meant… "So, that old man's not coming again this year, huh?"

Syaoran frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, what're you apologizing for?" America smiled at him as he returned the letter to Syaoran. "If England's gonna act like some hermit, it's up to him."

"Even so—"

A strange blue glow suddenly emanated from behind, and everyone stared at Mokona's glowing earring. The rabbit looked at its companions and said quietly, "It's time to go."

"What?" America whined. "But you guys just got here!"

"The beer-drinking contest hasn't even started yet!" Prussia added.

Fai smiled at them apologetically, as he and Kurogane began to walk away. "Sorry, but we really have to go."

"Can't you at least stay for the fireworks?" the nation-celebrant tried.

But Syaoran patted him lightly by the arm, saying, "As much we'd like to, we can't stay any longer."

America was about to convince them to stay when Mokona suddenly hopped to his shoulder and hugged his face. "Happy birthday, America!"

The nation-celebrant paused for a moment, but smiled and patted the rabbit gently. "Thanks, little buddy."

"Mokona!"

At the call, the white creature hopped to Syaoran's waiting hands. America watched as the boy and the rest of his group walked away until they disappeared into the crowd. The nation-celebrant remained quiet for a moment before France asked, "Are you coming, Amerique? The fireworks are about to start."

"Huh? Oh yeah, of course!" America easily slipped in a smile as he followed the others to where they could get the best view of the fireworks display—

His iPhone suddenly rang into life from his back pocket, and America blinked at the name flashing on the screen. Wearing a wider smile, he placed the receiver next to his ear and said, "Hey, England! What's up? You're missing the biggest party of the century, man!"

The Brit's familiar humph came through the receiver, if not slightly nasal. _"Well, I apologize for having caught the bloody flu!"_ He wasn't kidding; his voice was all weird and nasal-y, and the proceeding coughs and sniffles made the American cringe at the sound.

America adjusted the phone in his hand as he laughed, "Hey now, don't spread those icky germs through the line or—"

"_America, I am _this close_ to putting the phone down on you so I suggest you bloody well listen to me before I change my mind!"_

The phone was about half an arm's length away from the American's ear by the time England had finished, and America thought that he was going to go deaf from the Brit's screaming. The nation-celebrant huffed, "Okay, okay. Chill out, dude. So what's so important to tell me on my birthday of all days?" If it was something about work, then it would just confirm his suspicions that the Brit was a real work fanatic.

The line went surprisingly quiet for a while, and America raised a brow at the sudden silence. Finally, England's voice came through the line, _"W-Well, of course, I know what date it is over there. It's not like I could forget or anything – you remind us about it every so often, you sound like a broken record—"_

"England," America interrupted him. The fireworks were going to start any second now. "What're you trying to say?"

"_I'm getting to that!"_ England hissed. There was silence again, but it ended quickly as the Brit muttered, _"W-What I'm trying to say is… That is, well… Oh fuck, I'll just tell it to you straight then!"_

America's eyes widened, but it wasn't because the fireworks were starting without him. The fireworks were bursting loudly and everyone who watched awed and made all the more noise in the room. Yet in the nation-celebrant's ears, England's words were as clear as day:

"_H-Happy Independence Day, America…"_

~oOo~

* * *

**Special notes:**

Giant sunshade against global warming – America wasn't kidding, believe it or not. There's actually been an article about it by _National Geographic_ (the magazine) in its August 2009 issue, go on read it.

Buon compleanno – happy birthday in Italian

Fratello – older brother in Italian

Fumetti – comic book in Italian

* * *

**A/N:** After spending nearly a year into writing this, the sequel is finished off with a bit of USUK for everyone~! A big thank you to all for sticking around 'til the last chapter! For those who reviewed, you're all Prussia-awesome! Canada-hugs for everyone :"D

_Previous chapter's BGM (sorry for the lateness!): _Dawn [TRC OST]

_Tony's Playlist for the party:_ (includes but is not limited to) America's Marukaite Chikyuu version, America's Hatafutte Parade version, Hamburger Street, WDC, Bad Hamburger! (the last one's a mash-up of Hamburger Street and Bad Apple done by the lovely Kyuumi)


End file.
